


It's Always Gloomy on Kuraigana

by sassyseme



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst and Humor, Anything but Romance, Attempt at Coherency, Attempted Fluff, Casual Sex, Chronic Pain, Coherent Plot, Disability, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Flashbacks and backstories, Leaning toward Canon Divergance, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oddball Family, Periods, Surpringly Angsty, Swearing, catching feelings, relentless sarcasm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 60,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21999211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sassyseme/pseuds/sassyseme
Summary: Zoro is eager to reunite with Luffy, but first he mist learn how to live and forgive himself. To get through two years, he must fight mandrills, fight with his master, and occasionally fight a ghost princess. The part he didn't sign up for is fighting the urge to rip his hair out on a daily basis because how can anyone live with these freaks?Explicit chapters marked (E)
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks & Dracule Mihawk, Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks/Dracule Mihawk, Perona & Roronoa Zoro, Perona/Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 20
Kudos: 72
Collections: Seme's Favorite One Piece Fics!





	1. Abandon One's Pride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro and Perona quarrel as the time to reunite at Sabaody approaches.

Zoro had always known he found men attractive. Men were masculine and raw, and they wouldn’t tell him about their hopes and dreams. With men, lust was enough. Their objective was to grab and be rough with his body, to use him for their own benefit, and then it would be over. There was no room to entertain ideas like love or romance. And while women weren’t particularly weak, men were... men were…

His fists tightened and released, sending a twitch along his forearms as a high-pitched racket interrupted his thoughts. The words gritted through his teeth, _"Perona, hush."_ How could he even fucking _think_ about men with her bickering about medical-who-knows-what?

“Well, stop getting so hurt after every battle, you dummy!” Perona snapped in her hissy tone while unwrapping gauze from his shoulder. She sat upon a large gray stone outside of the castle's entrance while he was cross-legged on the grass. To prove her point, she smacked a hand on the healed part of his arm. “If you were cute, you’d be able to win after _this_ many times.” 

Zoro hissed at the sting and listened in silence. The words hit a very particular area of his pride, seeing as two years had passed without him able to best Mihawk.

She puffed out her lips in her usual fashion, the expression made dramatic by her angular face and large black eyes. Pressing salve from the trees to the most bruised area, she then sighed, satisfied with her work. There were no fresh gashes from the latest duel with grumpy Mihawk, and old discolored areas were healing even in the dim orange light that glowed against his muscles. 

Dracule “Hawk-Eye” Mihawk was Zoro’s master and the only man he had ever prostrated before and begged for mercy whilst dripping in blood. The memory sat clear in Zoro's head; when he had looked up, and it was days after being warped to the island by Kuma, only those _cruel_ golden eyes could make him feel so pitiful. To punish Zoro for such boldness, Mihawk trained him until he bruised.

Such time had been two years. 

Dinner would be soon, and the same cold handsome man expected both of them to attend his cooking. His anger would be unmatched if they didn’t show. _World's greatest swordsman and worst fucking chef._ Zoro grumbled to no one as he unfolded his legs and rose to his knees, pulling his disheveled yukata from his waist onto his shoulders.

In the meantime, a bath would relax his muscles. He wasn’t one to feel offended by his own musk when with the Straw Hats. Taking a bath might have been considered a _joke_ until Nami started to complain about the men. And, if she was really put off by their stench, she'd threaten to throw kitchen knives, much to the horror of the shitty cook. Living with Mihawk changed his routine, and a few days without bathing now seemed rancid. 

“Come on.” Perona grabbed at his bruised shoulder, forcing him to stand up faster. Despite her being inches shorter, she floated in the air meeting him at eye level. “Bathe already!” 

“I can do it my damn self!” He yanked his arm away and marched to the bath with balled fists, skin tingling at the spot where she grabbed him, body already thinking something might happen. Though, he shook the feeling as he stomped over the stone pavement in front of the castle's enormous doors.

“Like you can find it!” She laughed out, clutching her stomach when he turned toward the forest before rotating with a red face back to the castle. This process repeated for a minute. While inside, he surveyed the stone halls, knowing that one of them led to the largest hot bath. Right? It wasn’t his fault that the castle was fucking huge.

Her laugh echoed in his ear.

“Perona-” She was gone.

Zoro growled, stretching a leg back to spring through the halls past red velvet-lined pillars and empty golden frames that once contained paintings of royalty long dead. The murky walls were lit bloody by the setting sun through stain-glass windows. Each door looked the freaking same. Not that they were, but they _looked_ so. And in a matter of minutes, he'd found his way upstairs, surveying a new set of identical doors until he heard that ghost-like giggle. Pause. He waited for the sound, grinning evilly at the source of the noise.

_This one!_

"Perona!" He shoved open the door with a smile that faded twice as fast, blood draining from his face and his heart picking up.

Mihawk stared surprised. But moreso shirtless and irritated in the king's suite at his gothic nightstand next to a decorated window. The sharp words, “Do you _want_ to _die,_ boy?” prompted Zoro to slam the door.

_Fuck._

He dropped the metal handle and rushed down the opposite hallway. That damn Perona and her ghost shit. Surely, he could find the fucking bath after so many months, no, _years._ His cheeks heated, replaying the swordsman’s ripped torso in his mind; he almost didn’t mind the image her foolery left him with. Maybe she did it on purpose, knowing that he-

“Oh, what’s the point of messing with you?” Perona appeared, floating at the pace he ran. Her duplicate ghost wore only a towel and its pigtails hung wet. 

“Shut up!” He pivoted away from her with a burning face, skipping down the large grand staircase. “This is definitely your fault!” When he reached the bottom and approached the main corridor, he was back at the castle’s entrance again, and red-faced, huffing from the effort.

“For fuck’s sake, show me the way or _go away!”_

“Horohorohoro!” Perona laughed. “I can show you if you scrub my back.”

Zoro scoffed. As if he’d agree to that shit. He trained under the strongest swordsman in the world. Did she think his pride was that low? A man that would make Luffy the next pirate king didn’t need to fucking grovel.

~*~

“Be gentle!” Perona snapped.

He grumbled about women being fragile and complicated, whilst scrubbing her shoulders. Then a familiar sensation filled his stomach, like eating too many brussels sprouts, and his mood dropped to utter depression.

"I-I should die." The words choked out, replaced by a clear mind. “Ugh, Perona, stop that!”

She smiled as he yelled and sent another hollow through him.

“I-I wish to drown in this bath.”

“Horohoro!”

“Perona!” Depression. “P-please let me atone for my life.”

Her laughs echoed in the spacious steamy chamber until she’d had her fun. Then she instructed him to turn around. Exhausted from the energy, he rotated on his stool and let her hands rub a piece of soft bark against his back bruises. The movement was slow and gentle, diagonal from his armpit to his neck, forcing him to sigh and close his good eye. 

Before Sabaody, he never would have agreed to bathe regularly with an annoying woman, much less any woman. Such a situation wasn’t any less embarrassing because he had put his pride aside to see his friends. Was it even fair to say that, though, with their relationship? Or _whatever_ they were.

“It’s one of those times, isn’t it?” she asked, halting his thoughts. 

“Yea…” Zoro muttered, glad for the interruption, ears returning to color. The date approached when Mihawk’s lover visited the island. It served as the reason the swordsman moved with a sharpened mood, constantly ordering them to keep things spic and span. During training, his hits were especially brutal and still ached in the bath, though soaking in the hot water would soon help.

Zoro wished the stupid date would pass already while another part of him found it amusing that such a strong man could be so different from having a partner. That was love, the idiotic thing that made strong men weak. 

Perona rose from her seat to rinse under the faucet, leaving him to shampoo his hair, scrubbing his fingertips over his scalp messily as she continued her ramble. “I’m not complaining about his cooking, so don't you.” That may have been the only thing they could agree on. Mihawk's dishes were a game of roulette that could leave him wanting seconds or spending the night in the W.C.

“I wish he’d bake more sweets, though. He’s so cute in his apron.” She gushed, turning the nozzle off and floating toward the bath.

Zoro scoffed, dunking a wooden bucket over his head. “Not everything has to be girly and prim-” _D-dammit._ “I-if I can’t be cute, I should die.” His chest heaved and he stumbled off the stool, attempting to compose himself while she laughed.

“Look here, you witch!” He jumped to his feet, raising the bucket. “I've had it with your shit!”

She yelped and conjured steamy ghosts at her sides. “I am a _cute_ lady, and don’t you raise an ugly hand at me!”

They stared at each other, silent for a few seconds, and then she huffed and lowered her hands. He reciprocated the action in unison, opting to soak in the hot bath instead of arguing further as they both grumbled to themselves.

_I’m on edge._

It wasn't his style to hit defenseless women, but one with powers that could practically cripple him was fair game. Logic flew beyond after so many months. 

_Just focus._

The water shifted as she sat at the opposite end of the bath from him. She giggled. A splash landed near, provoking, but he ignored it, gritting his teeth. The tub was six meters long and four meters wide, having been used communally in the castle before the war. Now it was used only by them.

Her voice was low, “Cheer up, dummy. You’ll see your stupid crew when we leave.”

“We?” His brow twitched, replaying her words instead of meditating. 

Perona snorted so hard she kicked water again. “As if you can get to Sabaody on your own!” Then she floated on her back and laughed, unbothered by her nakedness as he balled his fists, red-faced and shaking. Like a talent, she could piss him off. _Like a talent._

How could he not be tense when their reunion was upon him? The feeling left a constant tinge in his chest as if he couldn't breathe and a stiff feeling in his shoulders. Luffy. Nami. Luffy. Usopp. Luffy. Chopper... _Luffy._ He’d see them again. His eye unconsciously followed her figure through the water, watching her pink hair sprout in all directions like a flower, like a lion's mane, like the Thousand Sunny.

“Straw-hat-chan.” 

His ear twitched.

“He has the potential to be cute.” With those big eyes and a ridiculous smile, how couldn’t he be cute? “You act like he’s your boyfriend or something.” She was teasing him.

It worked.

Zoro choked out. “Shut up already!” He didn’t know why he bothered to get mad, especially when he'd admitted how happy he was to leave. It couldn't be helped. Luffy was one of the few things he could think about now that the time to reunite approached. If not training or fighting with her or getting his ass kicked by Mihawk, it was Luffy, Luffy, Luffy.

 _Fuck._ His tension rose, despite the hot water meant to _relax_ his muscles. Luffy was somewhere fighting his own battle. And he was... he was... Zoro's throat ached and his chest hurt as he raised his eye.

“Well...” Her voice drifted closer and he found her inches from him, wet hair dripping at her shoulders. “You could stand to at least be more adorable.” His jaw tightened at the small distance, at her fingers that danced across his chest and then wrapped his neck. "I'll show you real cuteness for now."

One minute she was picking a fight, and the next she wanted to do that?

Zoro reached a hand out and trailed it up her spine, looking over her smirk, and then he removed his hold.

“Not now, I'm tired.” It wasn’t a total lie after Mihawk's beating.

She blinked her eyes at him and paused. Then she released her touch and crossed her arms, trapping a small puddle of water between her breasts. Without floating, she looked short in front of him. “Denying a cute girl is definitely not cute.” After a huff with poked out lips, she turned and waded in the middle of the bath again, still huffing. "You're hopeless, ugly swordsman."

He sighed and sank to his chin, leaving her to complain until she was preoccupied with her ghosts and humming a quiet melody. Closing an eye to relax, he replayed a moment on the Sunny, watching the guys run amuck and fish for exotic delicacies. 

_Luffy pulled a horned blowfish from the deck, waving to Zoro with that shiny, wide smile of his, then he was yanked into the ocean as the fish fought back, leaving Zoro to dive after him._

With gentle breathing, he fell into meditation that matched the flow of the water until her hums faded to silence.

Upon waking, he was alone. 

Zoro exited the bath after grabbing a towel and dripping wet on the stone floor. A sigh escaped as he stared down the corridor in a loosely wrapped black yukata with small stars on the breast pocket. _Right. Left._ Which way had he come from? He turned around, and like magic, the bath door disappeared.

_Ugh, not again._

“It should be…” He narrowed at the identical doors, walking down the hallway for minutes, wet sandals smacking the floor, managing to venture up one floor as well. With a slump of his shoulders, he chose, deciding that his room would reasonably be- “Here?”

It wasn’t.

When he pushed open the heavy door, it revealed a large princess-like room. Straight ahead, Perona floated in front of a mirror, donning a pink, striped panty set. He gulped, prepared for the wave of negative hollows and scream: _“Kya! You mossy pervert!”_

The pain didn’t arrive. She rolled her eyes in a better mood than before. “You fell asleep. It wasn’t cute at all.” There was a smile to her voice. Her hair dropped in waves as she brushed through it. Part of him wanted to demand she shows him the way out, but pride wouldn’t allow it. The flowing waves mesmerized his eye like the sea as he watched her in silence until she stopped and placed the brush on a black wide vanity.

“What is it?” She pivoted, cocking her head to the side as if to ask, _you’re still here?_ He watched her hair flow over her shoulders until a smirk formed on her lips. _Oh, you’re lost?_

Zoro balled his fists and stepped into the room as though he had meant to in the first place. He refused to grant her such satisfaction whether she had thought those ridiculing words or not. 

“Picking a fight, already?” A laugh escaped her when she backed up, hovering an inch from her spot and crossing her arms. It made her taller, but his broadness still loomed over, eye trailing like a hunter its prey. When her legs touched the back of her Victorian day-bed, a shocked smile covered her big eyes. “Th-this isn’t cute at all- eek!”

He wrapped her waist, lifting her inches to meet him at eye-level. For a moment, she paused, cheeks rosy and hands clutching his shoulders. But if he wanted to back out, her thin thighs enclosed around his torso and wouldn’t allow it. Maybe he was in the mood after all. _Maybe._

“I’m not lost.”

“Horohorohor-”

“I mean it, Perona.”

“And here, I thought-” To shut her up, he pressed his face to hers. Perona seemed to laugh even through the kiss, which heated him. He kissed deeper, pushing his tongue through and earning a soft moan. The sound satisfied him, and he broke away, hot in his stomach.

She pulled at his shoulders with a strength greater than her size. He rolled forward, wincing from the pressure of her nails on his bruised back as they sprawled in the sheets. Her satisfied smirk remained as he pushed his lips to hers, taking a soft bite at her bottom lip. He was sultry already, and hazy-eyed-

“Dinner.” Mihawk knocked on the open door. “It will be ready in fifteen minutes.”

And then he left.

Zoro’s skin turned to ice and his gut wrenched. _It was casual! No, we were wrestling! We took a bath, and then- ugh._ Did it even matter after so many times?

Perona untied his obi and the yukata slid open, revealing his bare muscled frame. _This_ was still happening, and it snapped his attention back. He thought the spirit had soured until her legs rubbed against him, and a raspy grunt escaped. _Fine then,_ he was in the mood. 

“Did you hear?” His hand traced her spine, earning a sigh that made him smirk. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

She laughed in return, obnoxiously loud and intent on keeping him over her. “I’ll show you true cuteness in the meantime.” 

A night such as this wasn’t rare. Whatever game they played, his pride didn’t allow him to lose. For with her nature, he also never knew if he was winning. 

Women were really too much.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to this fic! I've been a fan of One Piece even since the sketchy 4kids dub, haha. :)


	2. Lord of the Castle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The same night, dinner is awkward. A stranger arrives at the island.

Zoro picked at his peas in silence. Perona seemed to be unaffected by the damper mood, making sounds of joy as she ate. But Mihawk eyed him intensely, narrowing at every half-bite he took.

“Does it not _satisfy_ you?”

Zoro choked on the words. _Of all things to say._ Mihawk’s expression didn’t change as he swallowed down a slice of meat and nodded his head with a wry smile. “It’s good, r-really.”

The silent atmosphere did little to calm him.

“How good? Describe it.”

“W-what!?”

 _Like hell,_ he’d do that! A piece of rice flew down his throat and he snatched for the pitcher at the center of the table.

“Is it so bad that you have to wash it down? You cannot eat it?” Mihawk folded his arms, hurt brimming in his eyes. Zoro wheezed out, unable to reach the water, and held his throat.

“Horohorohoro!”

“This is no laughing matter, Perona.”

“Horo! But he’s choking so un-cutely!” She cackled like a hyena, floating out of her chair.

Mihawk's eyes softened. “You mean, he’s silent only because he’s choking?”

They bickered over his dry heaves. If his face had changed color, Zoro couldn’t tell. His hand slammed on the table, begging for help. Mihawk finally looked at him but seemed to smile which felt further inappropriate. “So he is enjoying it, after all?”

“Your rice is yummy!” Perona reassured him, which wasn’t a lie on her part. She loved all things sweet and ate only rice and desserts. 

_I-I’m dying? Hello?_ Zoro felt his legs grow weak as a glass hovered into his hand, left by an apologetic ghost. He glared at Perona, angry that she hadn’t offered help sooner, but swallowed down the bitter fruit drink, dislodging bits from his throat. Then he sighed, falling into his velvet chair, it wheezing under him in pity. The two stared, and he chose not to meet their expecting looks.

“Well?” Perona asked.

A deep breath swelled in his lungs. “Well, what?”

“Are you or are you not enjoying the meal?” asked Mihawk.

Zoro sighed, allowing himself to breathe again before nodding his head. “The meal is fine.”

Surely, worse cuisine existed in the world. Hell, it nearly killed him a moment ago. Perona’s eyes grew wide, twitching her head at Zoro while the older swordsman’s face fell. _Spt!_

Zoro glanced in her direction. She mouthed, _It’s good! It’s good!_ His brow furrowed. Who the hell was she calling _idiot!? Idiot!?_ She traced her finger on the table and a cloud of ghost letters formed on the tablespace below his plate, which he began to read until-

Mihawk scowled into his plate, banging a fist on the table. The action made Zoro snap away from reading: _Say that you love-_ “What good am I if I can’t even make a decent meal?”

Zoro’s face melded into shock as he realized his mistake. They'd been through tantrums of the vampire _more_ than once. The ordeal was especially wrenching when he was practiced his cooking. That meant he had a date planned. _Fuck, he's so damn sensitive over this shit!_

“W-wait!” Zoro raised a hand.

“World’s greatest swordsman? Yet I slave for hours preparing this dish, and for what?” Mihawk's voice rose an octave. “To make just _fine_ cuisine!?”

Zoro yelped as he lifted his shortest dagger. Even the smallest of knives were fatal when held by such a man. Perona flew above the table, clutching her plate. The knife swung downward in a swift motion.

“It’s delicious! It’s fucking delicious!”

Mihawk froze his assault, tilting his face up with glossy eyes. “Roronoa, do you mean that?”

Zoro slumped into his seat only after Mihawk had, but his legs were trembling. God forbid he died over the dinner table before his reunion with the crew. _And so soon._ He nodded his head while his heart began to beat normally. 

“I-I said nothing because I couldn’t find the words, all right!?” the words nearly shouted out.

Silence sank in while Mihawk processed his words, then relaxing into his chair, adjusting his chiffon sleeves. “Yes… and you agree, Perona?” 

Perona lowered her body to the table. She nodded quickly and then was eating with them again. Her assault on the rice pudding continued to distract from the quaking fear of the present.

Mihawk's intense brow softened, and he seemed satisfied. He waved a hand to encourage Zoro to eat more. He complied, shoving in forkfuls as daffodil hawk-like irises bore into him. Zoro's eyes teared up as he forked in the _overly_ sweetened rice, feeling a headache begin. _Insulin attack or future with Luffy, choose wisely._

“Mmm, yummy!” Perona quipped, finishing her second plate.

~*~

The next day, Mihawk paced back and forth through the castle, seeming to move at a speed that was super-human. He shaved his face, not that he didn’t usually, and his clothes were especially glowing, washed with a color-enriching solution. If someone were drunk enough to stare him down, even his golden eyes looked polished.

“Everything is neat, everything is perfect,” he whispered into the mirror, adjusting his black hat. In the reflection, he could see his bed, and he swore, rushing to smooth the wrinkles in the dark purple silks. _Sniff._ The room didn't smell, did it? Should he have freshened the—

“Mihawk-sama.” Perona appeared over his head.

If he jumped, she couldn’t tell by his stiffened shadow. “It had _better_ be important.”

“There’s a ship at the port.”

“What!?” The broken composure frightened Perona, and she hugged herself, opting to have disappeared if he didn’t hiss, _“Wait right here.”_ Arriving now would make his guest half a day early. Two meals were not his plan. That was _not_ the plan.

She squealed, unwrapping herself to cover her cheeks with her twirly pigtails. “I-I will meet the ship with Zoro.”

There was a moment of silence, and a bird cawed outside before he slumped his shoulders and raised a silent head. With a conceding tone, he said, “That’s fine. Do that.” She waited for further commands, but received none, and vanished.

Mihawk was left to march across the room and plop onto his de-wrinkled bed, creating new wrinkles. He buried his face into a heart-shaped velvet pillow and groaned out a sound only akin to a dying cat. Why did nothing ever go right?

~*~

“Ugh, he’s so scary!” Perona shuddered, returning to her body.

Zoro grunted, carrying her piggy-back through the forest. The baboons didn’t attack him, some even practicing domestic tasks now. Still, it was better that he check out the ship in case it was enemies. Mihawk once said that if a pirate couldn’t defeat his pupil then they dare not raise a sword to him. Zoro suspected those words were simply a tactic to get him to rid the swordsman's problems without Mihawk lifting a finger. And it worked every time.

“If you’re here now, get off.”

She flicked the back of his head in response.

“Ow! Damn, you!” His gut wrenched, bisected by a small ghost. “C-could I please carry you?”

“You can! Horohoro!”

“Who do you think you are!” He choked. “P-please forgive me.”

She laughed out loud as they paced through the forest, him continuing to carry her. Then he stopped his movement, scanning the trees with his one eye. The muscle twitches reached her. “What’s got you all tense?” She was shushed. “Don’t tell me to—”

He whipped his head back, silencing her with a fierce look, and then placing a hand on black shusui. Someone was watching them. She slid off his back and turned around, staring around the forest in anxiety. Even for the morning, it was awfully gray and leering, which she loved, but not the shadows of not-cute baboons that lurked around. 

“Show yourself!” Zoro barked, pointing the sword in front of him.

From behind a tree approached a tall-built man covered in a black cloak. Then he sped forward, and Zoro grabbed red kitetsu to block the attack with both swords. Perona squealed, flying back towards the castle as their swords collided. The man's face was partially visible and his smirk as Zoro looked up, intent on not being beat by his master’s rival.

Their swords separated and Zoro slid several feet back before going in for another attack. “Two sword-style.” He adopted the stance, attracting the attention of the man who paused and smiled. “Two-cut.” The blades were horizontal. “Flash!” Two slashes of wind flew through the air.

The man frowned as he raised an arm and swiped the attack away, which no average human could do with such little strength. “Well, that was disappointing. Show me something good, Roronoa Zoro,” his voice was both condescending and kind.

Zoro smirked, placing the white handle of wado ichimonji into his mouth, seeming to grin as his jaw locked. “Three-sword style.” He adopted the stance he was famous for, talking through his teeth.

“Very nice!” the man beamed, readying his sword.

“One gorilla.” He inhaled, focusing his breath to tense his arm muscles. “Two gorilla.” Energy swelled to his biceps. (A/N: get swol boi). In an exhale, he sped forward, swinging the tips of his swords together. “Two-strength slash!” His attack wasn’t so much intercepted as the man held it against him. But he pressed his muscles for additional strength, bringing the slash down upon the man's one sword.

For a moment, the swords moved an inch. His opponent’s hood fell down to reveal three vertical scars across his eye and ruby-colored hair, and then he whispered in a jeering tone, “Almost good enough.” With a shift of his arm, he parried the attack and threw Zoro backward. More insult to injury, he maintained composure and didn't move an inch.

They fought for five more minutes before Zoro focused his breath to activate his armament. His opponent's eyes lit up again. "Ah! You've mastered it!" The smile that crept on his face sort of pissed Zoro off as he charged in again and was intercepted with a black fist accompanied by a laugh.

Zoro gritted his teeth around his sword, opting to attack again, but the man raised his hand, his own armament fading. “That’s enough for now, take me to the king,” he said.

Zoro scoffed, sheathing his swords. He turned and trudged toward the castle in a damper mood than before, and he supposed quietly that Mihawk _would_ get pissed if he skewered his stupid boyfriend at first arrival. _Like you don't know your own way._

“Ahem,” the man cleared his throat. “That’s the way I came.” Zoro’s face reddened, and he faced the castle again before walking. A chuckle left the man. “And that’s towards the forest. Why don’t you take me back to my ship?”

Zoro smirked. That he could do, and easily. In fact, he preferred such a request so he wouldn’t have to defeat such a big shot in the New World. No, he practically _owed_ it to Luffy not to beat his uncle’s ginger ass before seeing him again. These thoughts comforted him.

~*~

“Ah, we’re here,” Shanks said, standing in front of the castle with a hand on his hip. He could count on his one hand how many times he’d been to Mihawk’s domain and set foot on the land. The island was rather creepy with a forest best described as a misty maze.

Zoro’s jaw dropped and his anger grew. “The- Your- Ship!” _You_ _tricked me!_

Shanks laughed, giving him a pat on the back. “I figured you’d make it here by _accident,_ so here we are. Let’s go in.” His final pat had enough strength to send Zoro flying forward into the dirt. “Oops.” He laughed, sashaying through the large iron doors.

“There you are! You idiots were fighting, I wasn’t sticking around for that!” Perona lowered her voice, looking over Shank’s rugged face and rotating in disgust. “Ugh. You’re not cute at all! Shave already!”

Shanks laughed. “And hello to you again, adorable lady.”

She rotated back around, humming. “Well, you’re better than the idiot who gets lost, at least. Come this way.” Shanks followed her floating body up two flights of stairs and along the corridor while Zoro trailed behind out of curiosity, grumbling when he caught on to her insult.

“Here is Mihawk’s room.”

Shanks smiled and pushed the heavy door open. It'd been many months since his last visit, but the stone-tiled room was just as elaborate, with velvet curtains and dark decor. Inside straight-ahead lay Mihawk on a velvet Victorian fainting couch, flipping through a book. A window cast dusty light onto his lap.

“Oh,” he said, raising a hand to turn the page, “You’ve arrived.”

Zoro nearly burst out laughing if not for his mouth covered by Perona's two small hands. She looked back into the room, smirking as they pulled each other to the side. _Over here._ _No, you!_ _Move. Ouch!_ They settled into a position where he poked his head into the doorway and she floated above him, chest pressed against the back of his hair.

Shanks glanced back at the two scrambling around the door with a puzzled expression and then at his boyfriend, who didn’t bat an eye at him. _He’s pissed._ Shanks sighed, stepping into the room fully.

“I brought you roses.” He pulled a black and red bushel from his cloak, which Zoro hadn’t noticed before. “But they've nearly died on the way here. It’s because this kingdom is so _morbid.”_ He blew a raspberry.

Zoro’s jaw dropped, and he glanced over his shoulder at Perona. Surely, red-hair wasn’t throwing punches already when he’d just reunited with the man? By her smug expression, he heard correctly. 

Mihawk reached out to take a black rose, then he sniffed it before placing it in the book. It snapped shut and the _crunch_ of the petals sent a shiver up Zoro's neck. The swordsman accepted the bushel and placed it on a circular table by the window without a glance paid to Shanks.

“You’re early,” he said, gazing out of the window. The stain-glass upper cast a colorful ray of light against his chest. “I don’t _like_ early.”

Shanks sighed, wiping his brow. “Baby, you don’t like _late_ either.” That didn't leave a large window of time that his beau did like.

Mihawk pouted, Zoro had to rub his eyes, _pouted?_ And then Shanks approached him, keeping half a meter distance. If not for two lurkers at the doorway, he would gladly grab the swordsman into his arms and have his way.

“I never know if you’ll be early, late, dead, missing an arm.” Mihawk gestured.

Zoro gaped, the sound covered by Perona's hand over his mouth and a quiet _shh!_ Sure, Shanks had visited the island once, but Zoro never entertained the drama fully other than sparring with Shanks. He was usually too exhausted to observe their interactions. For the first time, he resented his own devotion to training.

“How do you think this makes me feel?” Mihawk asked, quietly.

“Hot and bothered, I hope?” Shanks smiled, closing the distance between them.

“I’m _bothered_ that you’d find meddling with an inferior swordsman more important than rushing to my side.”

Shanks chuckled again. “It was a spar, hun—”

“And you won?”

“Well, I mean, we didn’t finish—”

Mihawk whipped around, approaching Shanks who stepped back. He pressed him against the column of the king-sized bed by one finger to his chest. The two men were well over six feet but looked average standing equal. “You didn’t even finish the fight?”

Shanks rubbed his head. “Well, not this time. I wanted to rush straight here—”

“And _here_ they’ll call me the world’s strongest swordsman whose _former_ boyfriend can’t even hold his own against a mere apprentice.”

Perona glanced at Zoro, cupping his mouth before he could retort. How their presence had gone unknown was beyond her, but even she could feel the heavy haki in the room, too. Unlike Zoro, she had observed the interactions of Mihawk and his lesser-cute Shanks. Any second now, the kissing would start.

Shanks’s cool composure faded. “Former? Bink's sake, honey-hawk, let’s have a drink and—”

Zoro snorted back a laugh first. Perona looked at him in horror, realizing she’d removed her hand. She whipped back to the room and met the Mihawk—no, _honey_ -hawk.

 _Horohoro!_ Only biting both lips could keep her from laughing out loud, until it burst out. "Horohoro!"

Shanks's brow twitched, annoyed from being interrupted _._ _“Leave. Or else.”_ Threats weren't like him, but his stress rose in the ridiculous situation. His words settled as cold promise, and they scrambled backward yanking the heavy door shut.

Finally, they were alone.

Mihawk paced to the center of the room and sighed. Such distraction didn’t suit him either. He placed his hat on the fainting couch and then ran a hand through his hair. A break-up was the last thing he wanted. Would Shanks now consider it since Mihawk mentioned it first?

“Shanks—” The sudden grab took Mihawk off guard. Shanks pressed his lips to him, leaving only the sensation of longing. Mihawk sighed into the kiss, taking in rough stubble, allowing himself to be guided back to the large bed.

“Your.” He broke away between a kiss. “Cloak.” Shanks unhooked it from his shoulders and dropped the fabric to the ground. Mihawk opted to make quick work of his beau’s pants, but stopped, concerned with how dirty they were. In fact, his brow twitched, _Shanks_ was dirty.

“Tell me,” Shanks whispered against Mihawk, breath hot on his face, neck smelling of rum. “How much have you missed me?” 

“Dearly.” The words escaped as he eyed his selfish, red-haired man. “I’ve missed you very much.” Shanks began to smile until he pushed distance between them with a hand. “But you will bathe before you grab me again.” 

“B-but honey-hawk!” Shanks threw up his hand.

_“Bathe, Shanks!”_

“Yes… okay… ”

***


	3. Last Night on Kuraigana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shanks stays for dinner. Perona and Zoro spend their last night on the island.

Dracule “Hawk-eye” Mihawk had been strong since the day he was born. Legend says that his piercing dandelion irises scared his own mother who handed him off to the nurse shaking. She demanded the boy be given away to the nuns for adoption. The nuns instead gave him to hawks. And those hawks raised him to fight with sharpened talons for blades. 

These were among the untrue stories that amused him. Mihawk’s birth parents were aristocrats who doted upon him as their only child. They treated him as fragile, and he proved them wrong by training with a bokken. After defeating every dojo on his island, the only love he harbored was for the blade. He set sail young and became a pirate.

Present Mihawk was peculiar. He wore a white chiffon shirt at the castle but traveled bare-chested on a coffin, revealing his defined muscles. For a cold man, he was domestic and tended to the land on Kuraigana island. Cooking, brewing wine, and collecting knowledge were his favorite pastimes, traits of a wealthy upbringing. 

Being a warlord allowed his information on the movements of the Red Hair Pirates, specifically Shanks. The ruby-haired man was more than the boy he’d met crying when famous Gol D. Roger was executed or the rival he'd fought countless times on the grand line. Shanks was a dear friend. And only years after meeting him did Mihawk realized his feelings.

It was a confession met with laughter from the entire Red Hair pirate crew, and a memory that left him with bitter taste… 

~*~

_“I think I care for you.” Mihawk slurred, head spinning from rum._

_Shanks laughed, barely holding his drink in the wooden lager as his men danced around the fire. What the hell was the serious guy going on about? He grinned, watching Mihawk rise from his seat on the log._

_“I mean it.” The music stopped as Mihawk bore a short black blade from his necklace and pointed it at Shanks. The crew tensed as he struggled to stand still. “Red-haired Shanks. If we’re both alive after all of this pirate conquering, let’s spend it together.”_

_The crew was silent, watching. And then Yasopp laughed first, and they all hollered loudly, slapping the ground in drunken stupor around the fire. Yasopp hit Shank’s shoulder. “Even that serious guy can tell jokes!?” He snorted out his drink, earning further hilarity from the men._

_Shanks gazed up, feeling sober for a moment with flames warm against his face. Mihawk’s yellow eyes were orange until he looked away, balling his fists. Shanks smirked like an idiot, wondering what adventure would be found if he said yes._ _The following day,_ _Mihawk was 35 years old when he’d woken up to the most horrible news of his life: that his drunken confession actually happened._

_“It was nice, over the night sky and everything,” Shanks said. Though the night was entirely his own fault, Mihawk lunged at Shanks out of embarrassment. When Yassop emerged, sleepy, and asking about the commotion, Mihawk remembered the crew’s reaction to his words and their daringness to belittle him._

_Shanks laughed as Mihawk chased Yasopp and Lucky through the tropical island. Benn Beckman tapped his shoulder, sitting next to him on the log. “Don’t take it seriously. He won’t be the last to confess. You just became an emperor.”_

_Shanks wasn’t one to forgo advice from his first mate, but he seriously considered Mihawk's words as the crew scurried through the beach._

_“Hell, it’s worth a shot.”_

_Mihawk froze in place, stunned by the words, as did the men he chased. Benn lowered his drink as well. “Pardon?”_

_The crew partied the rest of the morning in celebration of Mihawk, “Red Hair first lady!” as Yasopp called him in a drunken shout. That particular phrase ended the festivities early because Mihawk grew angry enough to swing Yoru, his two-handed black sword. He split the deserted island in two._

_On that day, their relationship began._

~*~

Mihawk tapped his fingers expectantly against the long black table. It had several chairs but only one end was used. He sat at the head in a victorian armchair, motioning to Shanks on his right. Even if they’d part soon, Shanks ought to feel at home. At the opposite end of the room, a ghost played a melancholy tune on the piano.

“Eat,” Mihawk demanded.

Shanks downed half a lager of mead and gazed back with a smile. It’d been so long since he had a bath that his skin squeaked. He wore the red and black yukata left for him. When he looked down, the rice stared back menacingly.

He glanced at the young swordsman and ghost girl across from him. Both wouldn’t look him in the eye because Zoro was nearly hurling and Perona was in a state of ecstasy. Shanks swallowed. Their opposite cues told him nothing about the dish. The mead was heavenly, but the rice… _oh God…_ he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth, feeling tears start.

“How is it?”

 _S-so sweet!_ He reached for his drink, but the glass slid away from his fingers as though a ghost moved it. Zoro met his glance, shaking his green head slightly. Shanks then eyed Mihawk’s hurt expression and swallowed it down instead, smiling at his man.

“Th-thank you for making this.” The words satisfied Mihawk without lying about the flavor. How? In _eight_ years of being together had this man failed to make rice? 

Mihawk smiled, sipping wine. Zoro and Perona sighed in relief, eating their own dishes. As long as they survived his first course, the night could go well and no furniture would be broken. No lives would end.

“Do you have anything else prepared?” Shanks asked, desperate when the mood settled.

Mihawk nodded, clapping his hands. Perona scarfed down her rice until he cleared his throat and clapped again. Zoro kicked her chair. She looked up, pink hair falling behind her shoulders, and with a snap of her fingers, dishes flew in from the kitchen. With a second snap, the piano stopped, and a new song began. Shanks flinched from the dark sound, mouth watering as the dishes hovered over the table and lowered gently.

“Garlic-braised beef shanks and slow-cooked carrots,” Mihawk announced.

Shanks—Zoro held in his chuckle—gawked over the dish with wide eyes, cooing at how delicious it looked.

“Huh.” Shanks’s head cocked toward Mihawk with a blank expression. “Can _you_ eat this, though?” Mihawk lowered his fork, lost on the question. Zoro and Perona also eyed Shanks confused until the older man’s lips curled into a smirk. “I thought vampires were allergic to garlic.”

At first, silence filled the air, save for the single presses of chords, which wasn’t good for anyone’s heart. Then Mihawk sighed into a wry smile. “Very funny, now eat.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” Shanks asked.

Perona was the first to laugh, joined in by Zoro. She mentioned _beef shanks_ and the three of them laughed hard, slapping the table.

“Very. Funny.” Mihawk smiled wider, this time his mouth twisting with his sharp tone. _“Now. Eat.”_ No weapons were brought to the table, but the butter knife he twirled between his fingers was fair game in the list of tools Mihawk could kill a man—or ghost princess—with.

They continued dinner over the tense mood, relieved to find the meat tender and seasoned. Zoro chewed, pondering why the world’s greatest swordsman—and his master—could braise beef but couldn’t make fucking rice. For the love of his own life, he didn't ask.

“So,” Shanks broke the silence, waving a fork between him and Perona, “How serious is this thing getting?”

Zoro coughed out, holding his throat, but Perona kept calm, humming to herself. It must have been months into his training when they started sleeping together. She wouldn't call it a “thing,” there had to be a cuter word to use. _He’d better be grateful for someone as cute as me._

Mihawk said nothing, sipping wine, though peeking from the corner of the glass. His hawk eyes knew all and had _maybe_ slipped information to Shanks during their bath. And perhaps he’d spilled some tea in the letters they wrote to each other. 

“It’s not…” Zoro didn’t know why he answered first, maybe to drown out Perona’s endless hum. He glanced at her for help.

She shrugged and repeated his words. “It's not, dummy Shanks.”

Mihawk drank louder, clearing his throat and eyeing Shanks. If they didn't know better, he was calling their bluff. He’d walked in to announce dinner _more_ than enough times to dispel such lies.

Shanks broke the silence with a laugh. “Well, you live only once! Back when I was your age, I had a fling or two myself.”

Mihawk rolled his eyes.

Perona tilted her head to the side, unaffected by the awkward air. “Yet now you’re not cute at all. Be lucky you have anyone, stinky old man.”

“Agreed.” Mihawk raised his glass, spreading some semblance of a real smile.

It was Zoro’s turn to choke as Shanks and Perona laughed again. He sat in his chair, wishing to be free of the island and all of its inhabitants. And soon, he would be.

~*~

“So they are a thing, right?” Shanks laid on the dark purple silk sheets, arm propped behind his head. The room was lit only by an array of candles, and the sky was black outside.

“Possibly,” said Mihawk as though he didn’t know, lighting a scented candle by the bed.

“There was tension there last time.”

“I don’t care right now.” Mihawk removed his black trousers and folded them over the chair to his vanity. His ruffled chiffon shirt was placed next to it. “Why do you?”

“It’s just… it's nice to know little Luffy is protected by guys with their head on straight, like that Roronoa kid.” 

“Well, then you'll be disappointed to know there isn't a straight bone in that boy's body.” Mihawk scoffed, folding his socks. When he stared back, he wore only his cross-shaped necklace and black silk briefs.

Shanks laughed out. “Honey-hawk! Did you just tell a joke?”

“Yes.” The bed creaked as he crawled into it. “Even I can tell a joke.”

Their lips met and Shanks hummed into the kiss, pulling back to say, "Well, he's got at least one straight bone if they're a thing."

Mihawk lowered his brows, thinking over the statement. Then he pulled a silk tie, unwrapping Shank’s yukata to roll his eyes in disbelief. “Not even underwear? In my home? Just how crude are you?” 

Shanks chuckled, sitting up to place a kiss on his bearded chin. “At least I took a bath.” To his surprise, Mihawk bit both of his lips and then released a tittering laugh, shaking his head. Shanks could only grin back as their lips met again, relieved to still hear the sound of Mihawk's laughter in its deep-chested form until his demanding self returned.

"Enough talk, come here."

~*~

Zoro placed trousers and a shirt onto his makeshift knapsack. It was really a square strip of cloth he folded and tied over his shoulder. Tomorrow he’d set out to Sabaody Archipelago. If he had deciphered Luffy’s message correctly, and he knows he had because he'd read over the post-war news countless times, the Straw Hat crew would be waiting. His friends would be waiting... after so long.

“You really can’t carry something cuter?” Perona asked, floating over his bed, positioned with her hands propped under her chin as though lying on her belly.

“I have things on the ship,” he muttered, tying the bundle in a knot after adding the few necessities he owned.

She hummed, now on her back. “Well, you’re free, so help me finish my dress.”

He scoffed, opting to lay on his bed instead. It huffed under his weight. Rest was due with the journey he had ahead of him. “As if, leave me alone.” He folded his arms behind his neck, closing his eye.

“Come on! It's special to me!” she whined, staring down at him. He poked out a lip and turned his head. To leave on time was important, and doing girlish things wasn’t the last memory he wanted to have—

“P-perona, stop!” His body levitated from the bed, leaving his peaceful thoughts in the sheets. She snickered, snapping her fingers, and he moved toward the door, which opened for him politely.

The hovering down the hall paused before Mihawk, who eyed him quizzically. He stood with a platter of cheese, fruit, and crackers, and a pitcher of rum. His appearance was casual, no, _sexy_ with only a black robe loosely tied around his torso covering what was important, which clearly didn't include such long, muscled legs that should be illegal in all seven seas.

Zoro floated away before he could save the image, shouting swears at Perona. Mihawk rolled his eyes and continued up the stairs to his victorian master bedroom. Food and rum was the only consolation he could provide the pirate emperor. 

_“You beast! Bring me alcohol, now!”_

He chuckled, kicking open the door to return.

~*~

Zoro thought he would be sick when he arrived at the open door, revealing pink and black gothic decorations that contrasted his dull guard captain quarters. The room was dim-lit by candles lining the stain-glass window ledges. It looked as it always did.

“E-enough...” He hung limp when she motioned his body toward the foot of her canopied bed. She giggled with evil intent, lowering him to the ground while she sat at the edge. And he glared up angrily and queasy, hair disheveled and yukata hanging from his shoulders.

“Now that you’re here.” She smiled, snapping a finger to shut the door. “Help me finish this dress—hey! Stop it, you idiot!” 

Zoro launched himself onto the gigantic fluffy bed, struggling over its bounciness to pin her hands at her sides. “Why do you mess with me!? Am I a joke to you!?” For the sake of his pride, she didn’t answer, only holding back laughs through bitten lips. He knew her power depended on swipes and flicks of her fingers, so he kept her pinned in the silence.

In such a situation, she’d typically call him a name and find a way out of his hold easily. He’d be bombarded with negative ghosts until he apologized. She said nothing under him, pouting and looking towards the window. He glanced over her lacy nightdress then released his grip. The mood felt odd. It was too quiet without the piano.

“That’s it?” he asked, eyeing the long black bustier dress on her sewing table. From his distance, it looked finished. Behind it stood her closet, filled with other small projects they had completed together. 

“The waist needs taking in,” she said, folding her arms. She was still lying down as he yanked her thigh to the edge of the bed. “Kya! Idiot!” He placed two hands on the sides of her, leaning in so their faces leveled, lips almost brushing, earning a flushed look.

“Fine, I'll finish it. This is the last thing I’ll help you with.” The words should have pleased her, but they didn’t. Her mood soured as he jumped down from the bed.

Zoro walked toward the dress and slid a hand over the fabric. Just by looking, the garment seemed eighty percent done. The inside of the bust needed to be double-lined, likely with the pink silk laid over the table. Small details weren’t difficult, but they were tedious. He calmed down then felt his body rise into the air again.

“C-come on already, I’ll get it done!” Zoro snapped as he lowered near the bed. “Perona…” He sighed, irritated, as he balanced himself on the edge, climbing up all of the way. “What is your problem?”

She said nothing, arms folded as he crawled toward her new position at her cluster of pillows. He snatched at her leg carefully, but she kicked his hand away. “Perona.” There was no reply, only a _hmph_ and a pillow kicked toward him. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Still hungry?”

“Grrr.”

He rubbed a hand over his brow, looking back at the dress, then crawled further onto the bed. She lay hugging a pillow when he tugged her dress.

“Pink is ridiculous...” he mumbled, looking for a reaction that would prove nothing was wrong with her.

She _hmph’d,_ covering her face with a blanket.

“And bears are stupid...” He leaned in closer, snatching a corner. Playing her game wasn’t the way he’d choose to spend his last night on Kuraigana, but he did anyway. He lifted an edge and stared into darkness under the thick sheet, hearing only her soft breathing and the shift of blankets.

“I won’t miss an un-cute dummy like you,” she whispered.

He moved closer to see her round black eyes reflecting the flicker of the candle on her nightstand. “I won’t miss a cutesy lunatic like you, either.” She receded deeper into the blanket as though it were a tunnel, so he followed into the warmth, leaving the light behind. “I also won’t forget you, so don't act all sappy.”

Her movement stopped, and she glared at him, or at least she must have. “Don’t try to speak cutely to me!” Being cute was impossible for a brute like him. _Impossible._ How dare he even say that to her after cooking together, and eating together, sewing, sleeping, bathing- her eyes glossed and she turned onto her side angrily.

The words weren't a lie. Forgetting a woman as peculiar as she was damn near impossible. No matter how hard he wished to, he’d never forget someone who attacked him with literal ghosts. Or, someone who he had told those personal things to. Zoro settled into a place next to her, then sighed, cozying up in the spot he lay. 

“What are you doing!?”

“Sleeping.”

“B-but the dress.”

“I can’t. I’m asleep.” 

She huffed, prepared to flick her fingers again, but he shifted forward and—the gesture made her freeze—hugged her waist with his thick arms. He looked up from her bosom with his good eye half-closed, adjusted to the darkness. An idiot like him definitely wasn’t cute, definitely not! 

No response. He closed his eye, yawning again.

“I'm tired. Let's talk about it later.”

“Th-then shut up and sleep!” She puffed out her cheeks and rotated onto her other side so that he wouldn’t hear her beating heart. Their position shifted, and his chest pressed against her back, aligning their breaths. It wasn’t weird, right? She should at least be the cuter little spoon if thrown into such a not adorable situation. Her heart wouldn’t stop. What was she anyway? A maid to fix him when he got hurt? Why did she have to live with such a brutish man for years?

His snore interrupted her thoughts.

 _Scoff._ She waved a hand for her mini Kumachi bear and hugged it close—it wasn’t as though small details were hard to do. Snores sounded heavy against her back. A ghost was instructed to blow out the light, and she closed her eyes, conceding that at least she was the little spoon. Her body relaxed into his hold, the smile into her hair, and his heavy breaths. 

~*~

Perona woke alone with her long pink hair sprawled over the bed. The morning light indicated that their voyage would be soon, but the sun shined through colors in the stain-glass indicating it was later than six. _Eek, dress!_ She snapped upright, grasping her blanket from her face. It wasn’t on the table! She darted her eyes, almost missing the dark form on a mannequin, for it looked _very_ different. _Wh-what is that?_

The bodice was decorated with white stitches and flowery embroidery. On the tail, additional white ruffles were sewn in-between her black ones on the skirt's length. There was an open package of bandaids on the table.

 _Wh-when did you-_ She covered her mouth, eyeing the dress. The directionless idiot made something cute!? No, something _adorable._ She floated across the room, eyes widening as the garment grew large in size to run a hand against the fabric. The dress glistened back at her. Her fist tightened as she ran the other hand inside the pink seamless lining, settling on the small word embroidered, hidden almost: _Thanks_ _._

Considering the power play they'd been in for the past year, to her it read: You lose. She began to laugh, shaking her head, lip quivering. Tears brimmed her eyes as she laughed again, releasing the fabric to cover her face with both hands.

"You idiot."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, we jump backward in time!


	4. (E) Shame & Princess Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's night turns south fast. The two avoid each other until it’s cleared up. Perona reveals a secret.
> 
> Explicit content, masturbation

**Two months** had passed since Zoro first landed on Kuraigana island, and much of the island lay unexplored. Drinking would be his preferred way of passing the time, but Mihawk forbade alcohol until he mastered the art of haki. And it was taking _so damn long_ to master. He didn’t even understand what it was, let alone produce his own. Days without liquor felt like days with no end. 

Zoro paced the dark hallways, guided only by the candle-torch he held. The moon was high, and instead of sleeping, he explored his restless thoughts, unbothered by the pink-haired floating munchkin who tormented him in the day. His muscles ached with every step he took. The castle’s draft whispered over his shoulder, forcing him to yank his yukata tighter. 

_Ah._

His ears twitched, halting his patrol of the dim halls. That voice was definitely her, likely messing with him. It was bad enough that he lived in a haunted castle, but Perona was always quick to try and spook him by sending her ghosts around or being a ghost herself. He shuddered, irritated and unsettled at the unknown surprise lurking in the dark.

_Hah._

The sound entered his ears again and he furrowed his brow, this time deciding to follow it, eyes closed, stepping toward the quiet echoes. He traced his fingers along the ridges in the wall, walking on his heels to dampen the sound. Then he stopped at a cracked door that looked like every other save for the flickering light cast underneath. Her voice was clear now, as were her faint, breathy moans.

He blinked and staggered back, almost dropping the torch. Perona didn’t have a companion on the island. Her having snuck someone underneath their noses _was_ a possibility, but there'd be no need to. Mihawk wouldn’t care. His brow loosened and warped to surprise. She had to be... to... herself. _N-no._ This conclusion made him flush and tilt his head awkwardly towards the weak flame of his candle.

A smirk almost touched one cheek. _Hell,_ even an annoying woman like her had needs. He wouldn’t pretend the urge to relax didn’t strike him in the bath, but it was a private event. Turning away, he bit his lip, having decided his nosiness ended. Listening would make him a pervert and elicit an unwelcome reaction-

The door creaked open just as he pivoted on his foot, the high screech sending a shiver up his spine. On instinct, he hunched his shoulders, refusing to make eye contact, but he could see the distorted shadow of her floating body on the lit wall in front of him.

When he glanced over his shoulder, Perona hovered against the doorway, donning a white babydoll gown that left much to his vivid imagination. Her hair was undone from its pigtails, hanging down her back messily. She looked more like a woman than a doll. It gave rise to a place he really wished it hadn't.

Behind her, the room was decorated in pink and purple shades, but he snapped his head forward, locked onto the grey stone wall again.

“I-I was just passing.” He felt the need to explain.

“Zoro?”

“Goodnight!” he barked, marching away from her door like a stiff toy soldier.

Zoro’s feet stomped against the ground. _That was dangerous._ He shoved open the door to his room after twenty minutes of pacing to find it. A fact, his room was down the hall from hers.

 _Fuck._ How could he even get it up for a woman like her... The bed creaked in response as he tossed himself onto it, leaving his boots and swords scattered to huff into his pillow. 

_Sleep. Forget._ The words planted themselves in his mind, but the reality grew far from it. He shuffled his body around the sheets until he managed to kick off his pants, leaving his yukata and shorts, then staring at the ceiling.

 _That could've gone worse._ What would he say to Mihawk? That ghostly man always looked like he knew something. Maybe Zoro would be struck by Eneru’s lightning at the dinner table tomorrow, or Nami’s.

He shifted to the window, unwiped since he'd first arrived, caked with dust and grime. Try as he might, the thoughts lingered, leaving his mind to trace the silhouette of her dress. _She usually wears less._ He shook his head, rolling onto his stomach. What anger he felt replaced itself with pity as he groaned face-down into the pillow, hugging it with one arm and hating the pressure at his hips. Moreso, he loathed himself for reaching his free hand into his yukata to entertain the urge. _Why, body._

Men. He liked men. In their strong and muscled forms. Tall and rough _._ He stroked his stomach, palm warming the area. It’s not like his dick could tell the difference when he hadn’t had sex in so long _and_ had to suffer through training with the most handsome man alive. Huffs escaped him as he rubbed over the fabric of his pants. She was annoying and small, two of the things he didn’t like.

He buried his cheek deeper into the pillow, wiggling out of his shorts. Perona wasn’t a man. The thought settled in as he rubbed his thighs, simulating the movement of the last man that had touched him. Some pirate, no name, on break after the fights of Water 7.

It made his skin crawl, trailing along the curve of his ass. A filthy man was he. They were so different... nothing could happen between them. Entertaining that kind of fantasy would be stupid as well.

Reaching into the nightstand next to him, he pulled out a small container with thick liquid in it. It was lube, craftily scraped from the gel of an island plant, and before he dipped his fingers in, opting to take a generous amount, he decided that he wasn't hard enough yet and accepted only a small dollop. He laid on his back, propping his knees up and working his free hand, making the area slick. Slow at first, he bit his bottom lip at how good the contact felt. Being so pent up had to make it feel better. 

_Zoro?_

He could almost hear her muffled voice, eyes hazy and half-closed, stomach hot with an electric feeling. “Perona...” He hadn’t meant to say her name, perhaps it was in response, but he stroked faster, gripping tight and then loose.

“Zoro.”

"Perona," he muttered again, head falling back, seeing her sheer dress that teased the shape of her body.

“Zoro! You're a pervert!”

The shrieking tone snapped him out of his trance, and he bolted upright, wide-eyed and trembling. "P-Perona?" his voice was weak. Like an idiot, he hadn't stopped his motion, and he lurched forward, gasping out in a tremor.

She screamed, covering her eyes as he released onto his hand-thigh.

 _No, no, no, no._ He snatched his yukata to cover what little dignity remained and then buried his face in his clean hand, damn near shouting into his palm. "W-what the hell are you doing in here!?" 

"Leaving!" she shouted from the open doorway. 

"Wait! Dammit! It’s not what-" He rushed to clean up, wiping himself at a violent pace and tearing on his shorts. His hands felt numb and the room moved in slow motion around him. He was sleepy mixed with the high. "It's not what it looks like!" That barely made sense to him, but he had to explain.

How much had she seen? And what the fuck was she doing in his room? Did he close the door!? Questions swirled.

His words seemed to stop her in her tracks, and her head angled towards him, pure disgust brimming in her eyes. But then she floated out of the room, snapping a finger and the door slammed after her. No answer provoked more anxiety than any answer.

"God." Zoro grabbed a pillow and hugged it to his knees, groan-murmuring into it. "I hate this fucking island…"

He laid back down, staring at the stone ceiling of his room and the plain canopy of his bed for several minutes afterward, unable to move. _Please no._ He covered his face, feeling a rise in his shorts again. _Haven't you gotten me in enough trouble!?_ He rolled onto his stomach and chose to ignore the urge, opting instead to shout into the pillow, half out of anger that he'd forget to fucking close the door, and the greater half out of shame.

Living on the dark island might kill him before he sees Luffy again.

~*~

Zoro didn't have to continue pleasuring himself after the embarrassing situation, but there wasn’t much else to do at the mansion when he woke up, and he could hardly sleep after the occurrence. He didn't want to leave his room just to be battered and bloody again another day with Mihawk. And masturbating was a method to calm his body. Anxiety aside. Training aside. Every important duty in his life aside.

In a way, touching himself could be the difference between healing enough to leave the island or not. This was the only logic that a man as shameless as he could muster up as his wet fingers trailed around his ass, aligning with slow breaths to relax. He pushed his index finger in, twitching from the awkward and invasive feeling. Careful stroking allowed him to sigh and even moan, pushing in a second finger until he’d softened his hole with lubricant.

It wasn’t long before he was writhing on the bed from his fingers, laying on his back while aware of his quickened heartbeat. He pumped himself with his opposite hand, struggling to keep his breaths in. Even alone he could get sultry over being fucked, and it’d been much too long since. He grunted and leaned his head back, stroking himself to a finish then lying in his own heat.

“Maybe I am a pervert,” he mumbled to the ceiling, met with no reply.

After using the W.C. and having an early bath, Zoro returned to his room for the day, too ashamed to leave and face the cruel outside world. Maybe they’d fight later, he and Mihawk. He stretched and assessed his body for hours, meditating quietly in between, and not bothering to eat until scolded by Mihawk who threatened to cut the door down if he didn’t arrive for dinner, _“Promptly, boy.”_

“Next time, come when you’re ordered.” Mihawk glared from his wine glass, sitting at the head of a long black table.

Zoro passed the series of dead royals on the walls to reach the end where plates were arranged, choosing to ignore the harsh words of his master. He pulled out a chair to Mihawk's left and plopped down, eyes focused on the sweet liquid in the horrible man's hand, silently hating that he wasn't allowed to indulge.

Drinking would clear his thoughts and rid him of his restless energy. The withdrawal had nearly killed him weeks in, leaving him irritable and angry, but the longing for booze now ached more like invisible pain. He shook his head, finally noticing the empty plate where Perona usually sat across from him. 

“Where’s…” he stopped himself from asking.

“Finished. Some people are able to eat when they’re called.” That news relieved Zoro. She avoided him, too. _Good._

“You don’t intend to forego more days of training, do you?” Mihawk narrowed his eyes from his seat, his pale skin dancing under the flickering flames of the large candlabra on the table. “Were your tears just a farce for pity?”

Zoro tightened his jaw, staring down at the mystery-flavored meat in front of him, and shook his head. “I’ve healed. I don’t need any more rest.”

Mihawk showed no indication of being satisfied. He only swallowed down the rest of his drink and departed from the table, leaving Zoro lost as he ate the meat which he discovered was a sour-spicy flavor this time. His thoughts drifted to the sunny, making note that he’d have to offer to make dinner if he wanted edible food.

~*~

A week passed between Zoro and Perona refusing to speak. Training continued with Mihawk, and as instructed she was there to patch his wounds when he was beaten too badly. Other than she applying salve to his body and him grunting in response, they weren't conversing with one another. He wanted to bring up his horny blunder, but there wasn't a way to without being further accused of sexual harassment. It had to be cleared up eventually. She couldn't stay upset with him forever, right? The embarrassment stung.

_I shouldn't even care what that lunatic-_

"Youch!" He yanked his shoulder away when she pulled a bandage tight _right_ over his fresh gash.

"Hmph, that's what you get for thinking those nasty things."

Mihawk raised a brow, glancing between the two of them as he wiped Zoro’s blood off his practice sword. His golden eyes were piercing _harshly,_ and then he departed walking in his usual sashay. Each dusty step he took said their pathetic quarrel sat beneath him, but make no mistake, they had been thoroughly judged. 

Zoro waited until his steps faded past the large 12-foot castle doors before grumbling that a vampire should go find a coffin to lie in. Mihawk’s skin literally paled in comparison to Perona’s... as if _he_ was the ghost princess. The thought would have had Zoro burst into laughter if he didn't feel grim already.

"Look." Zoro sighed, turning on his bottom against the stone pavement. "We need to talk about-"

She hovered away in a chair-sitting position, arms crossed over her chest.

 _So dramatic!_ "I’m not a fucking pervert, Perona!” He clenched his jaw, red-faced and ripping bits of grass through the cracks of the ground. 

The words made her pause mid-float and glance over her shoulder, giving an unconvinced, “Hmph.”

He stood, walked a few feet after her, then planted himself firmly at the castle’s entrance. “Look I’m not leaving this spot until we talk about what happened!” And he meant it.

~*~

Perona hummed to herself, floating around the island in a casual outfit: a frilly skirt and striped shirt set. Her heavy red boots hung off her small calves in comical comparison and her hair was tied in twirly twin-tails. “Kumachi and friends…” she sang quietly as the sky darkened, carrying two straw woven baskets. Less and less light reached the deeper she ventured into the forest past the hills surrounding the castle.

Being the ghost princess was a great privilege and burden. She herself edified beauty, cuteness, and class. But every light attracted bugs, or _ugly_ people. Men only demanded or wished to have her to themselves out of selfishness, save for blessed Moria-sama. Ugliness was selfish. 

That mossy blockhead seemed different because he focused solely on his own training in the months they’d cohabitated. Now, she knew she was mistaken. “Horohoro.” And he didn’t have an _ounce_ of a cute brain if he thought sleeping at the main entrance would deter her in the slightest. Had he never seen her float out of a window at a moment’s notice? What a dummy.

Perona entered a grove of low bushes with pink and purple colored berries on one side and white and gray flowers opposite them. The berries provided her with dyes to color clothes and fabrics in her room. Dark and red velvet lined much of the castle, but she preferred more than two colors to brighten up the place. Pink would be a nice touch to the dining room, too.

She continued filling up her baskets until her stomach felt weak. _Oh no._ Her legs trembled and she tumbled to the ground with a soft thud on a patch of grass. _Snap. Snap._ The power wouldn't budge, like trying to force a faucet to run with the water source cut off.

It took energy to float around with her devil fruit power, and of course, by taking the long way around that idiot all day, she’d exhausted herself. She hadn't accounted for double the scouting ghosts and flying out of windows when he'd almost pass by.

_That useless, irritating!_

Perona huffed, grabbing at her boots to straighten her legs, then laying down on her back, skirt rising an inch over her striped leggings. _Come on._ She flicked a finger, to humor herself if anything and the baskets floated for a moment then plummeted to the ground. Going anywhere was not an option. _Ugh!_

Slamming her fists into the dandelions, she screeched in frustration. “This isn't cute at all!

~*~

Zoro bolted upright, a hand on his swords, surveying the land in front of him. It was night now and he could hardly see through the thicket of the forest.

 _That girl!_ In a way he couldn't explain, he knew the faint scream had come from her, and that she was out there somewhere. _Grrr_. That meant she had snuck past and was _further_ avoiding him! 

He jumped to his feet and dashed into the forest, cursing at the shadows that swirled around him like some nightmarish fantasy. Every owl hooting in his ear or mandrill that growled low made him tense and hold his swords tighter.

"Perona!" he shouted. "Perona! Ghost girl! Spooky creep!"

Continuing to shout her name among snarky thoughts, he crunched over twigs and dry leaves, pulling his yukata tight to cover his chest in the night breeze. She wouldn’t avoid him again. Not this time. Not for another week-

“I’m here, you dum-dum.”

He stumbled to a halt in a clearing of trees, nearly tussling over, then whipped around and blinked back in horror, swallowing all of the spit in his throat. “Y-you’re a ghost!”

Perona hovered over him, paler than normal, a _third_ of her usual size, and nearly transparent as though she were fading away. “Rowdy and ugly, do you want to wake up all of the mandrills?” her tone was sharp, but he had to strain to hear her voice.

Such a sight was oddly terrifying to see right after a nap. And no, he most certainly didn’t want to wake up even half of the damned beasts. His head ogled as she traveled into the grove opposite the direction he came and looked over her shoulder so that he'd follow. 

Zoro rubbed a hand on his neck, grateful for the cold air that cooled the embarrassment he felt, albeit partial anger. He kept a hand on red kitetsu for comfort, trailing her fun-size ghost past the fruit fields on the curved hill that Mihawk tended to. The grove lay past a large lake that reflected the castle and his walking figure. 

“So, are you always this small, or is this a special occasion?” 

She floated into a tree and then disappeared.

"Hey, wait!" Zoro jogged after her, finding empty dark space.

"Perona!" he shouted again, looking around the area until his eyes locked onto a patch of grass between bushes of berries below the hill he stood on. Illuminated by the moonlight was a pink head of hair. 

"Perona?" 

She didn't respond, making him clench his teeth and lean over the shallow edge. If she wanted to, he imagined she could have climbed or floated up like always. Finding the small white ghost enter her lifeless body, her eyes opened like the undead, and he shuddered, unsheathing kitetsu to scale down the steep slope.

It mildly irritated him, while careful not to trip over rocks and twigs, that she would send him on a wild chase just to be found lounging. He used the sword to support his body and then landed with a thud on the grass.

“Took you long enough,” she muttered, crossing her arms as she sat upright next to two large baskets he now noticed. She leaned a hand against one. “Idiot swordsman.”

Zoro narrowed his eyes. Her breaths were shallow and she swayed in the breeze as though it were holding her up like a rag doll. An itch at his shoulder told him something felt off. “Did you lead me here just to watch you slack off?” he asked, bracing himself for the ghost she might send through him, and that she _looked_ as though she would. 

Perona didn’t. This fact made him cock his chin, sheathing the red sword and kneeling to the ground, elbows over his knees. “What’s up with you?”

Her body seemed small as she glared up at him, moonshine beaming on her large sweaty forehead and eyelids flickering. 

He leaned in to hear the soft voice, “I’ve used up my power, carry me back to the castle.” 

A hum escaped him, then a huff through his nostrils. “No.”

Perona’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened angrily. “How dare you say no!? Do you know how long it took to stitch you up when you got here!?”

He rubbed his ears, shaking his head from the high pitch, then said sharply, “Not until we talk, you can’t just ignore me for a week and then want to be swept off your feet like some _princess.”_

“I _am_ a princess.”

“Well, _princess,_ stop treating me like a skeeve. What happened last time…” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his brow, forehead shadowy under his palms. “It was an accident but you won’t let me fucking explain that.”

“There’s nothing to explain!” She balled her hands in her lap, biting both lips angrily. Calling that idiot for help was a bludgeon enough to her pride, but the cold ground made her legs tense and start to ache. Zoro folded his arms expectantly until she sighed, forcing the words he wished to hear. “Take me back and I’ll listen to your excuses.”

“They’re not excuses.” _But fine._

Zoro furrowed his brow again, humming in thought for a moment to assess where they were. “Do you always use up your power?”

“No, I had to travel far due to a certain perv- I mean _person_ blocking entrances.”

“Sounds like a great guy.” He smirked, rising from his crouch to pick up a basket and reach for the other. “Let’s go then, princess.”

She squeezed her fists tighter, knuckles turning white. A simple idiot couldn't even follow directions. “I said carry _me_ back!” 

Zoro raised a brow, scoffing. “You can’t walk yourself?” God forbid she _move_ anywhere without the luxury of those devil fruit powers. Boohoo, flying is so hard when-

“No.”

“Exactly, then get-” he paused, placing the basket down with a skeptical look. “Wait, you actually can’t?” His eyes scrolled over her, previous thoughts disappearing as he looked for injuries in vital areas of her body.

When he approached close again, crouching down, she hit his shoulder with a balled fist.

“Just hurry up already!” her shout was quiet as a whisper. In fact, none of her shouts felt loud. The _wind_ was louder than her voice.

“Alright, yeesh.”

As he kneeled to his knees, she hooked her arms around his shoulders, the position awkward as he raised carefully. He hoisted her piggy-back and looped the two baskets through his forearms after placing his hands under her thighs.

Zoro carried her through the forest, earning angry quips when he didn’t follow confusing directions. He thought over her powers and potential injuries while he walked. Maybe she was hurt and too proud to say so. Could a mandrill have attacked her? Or anything else in the forest? Well, he didn't see bruises.

Women were complicated.

~*~

“There.” Zoro huffed and planted her onto the fluffy bed after having climbed a short ladder to reach the top. The bed itself was three times the size of his and covered in bears, pillows, and blankets. It was also four times as high; he hopped off the edge, landing with a thud, and then turned around, taking in her gothic room.

Dim darkness met his eyes save for a large candelabra on her centermost round table and one small candle at the tall nightstand.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back.” Then he rushed out, leaving her tall door open.

Perona sighed, slumping back into soft sheets, surrounded by beloved plushies. That dummy wouldn’t return. He wouldn’t find the room if there was a pink arrow pointing to it. After a quick laugh, she sat up and reached to unlatch her boots, wincing as the heavy platforms fell several feet down from the high Victorian mattress with a thud. A muscled idiot made useful for transport, at least. 

Her fatigue returned as she crawled on her knees into a pile of blankets and sighed, hugging a small Kumachi bear and watching the flickering flames of her bedside candle before a snooze took her.

An hour must have passed when Zoro shouted in the doorway, huffing, “I’m back!” Finding her room again took longer than expected. The castle was to blame for being so confusing, and one most certainly couldn't tell him that her door was the _only_ open door in the halls.

“Good, now you can go away again,” she murmured in a sleepy voice, wincing from the boisterous clanks as he removed his swords and boots.

He trudged toward her large bed at the north-center of the room, carrying a medical bag with supplies. “Let me see,” he said as he slung it over his shoulder.

After Zoro climbed up, he stood at her sleepy face, making note that even a woman as dangerous as she looked gentle when tired.

“Come on, show me already.”

“What?” She rubbed her eyes, sitting up.

“Your legs.”

~*~

“Don’t _touch_ me!” Perona screamed, throwing pillows.

“S-stop! I’m trying to help!” He crawled towards her, waving the bag while ignoring the force of her fluffy projectiles. _Goddamn, why be difficult?_ He just needed to see her legs to help her. They were bruised, as he found out by yanking off a long sock the moment before she grew hostile.

“I’ve got this salve-” The small bear that hit his throat made him choke back the words.

She reached for a far pillow, leaving a second opening for him to grab her sock-covered left thigh, careful to stay above the affected area of her leg even as he coughed on air. Silence. The pillow muffled her face, but sniffs could be heard as he focused.

“What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?” He paused his objective to see her legs and crawled forward, closer to the headboard where her thin arms clutched the pillow to her face. Soothing a crying woman didn’t suit him, but if she was in that much pain then it was all the more reason to talk to him and _stop_ crying.

“Please, just leave,” the words hicced out, and when he pinched a corner of the pillow to slide it out from under her arms, her puffy face was smeared with eyeliner. 

_Pfft._ Zoro bit both lips to hold in a laugh he quickly concealed. The situation amused him by no means, but a feeling that he quickly shook arose at seeing her so distraught when she could just ask for help. It left a word in his mind which quickly escaped.

“I’m staying,” he said, firmly.

Perona sniffed back snot, legs tousled again inside her blankets. To be so vulnerable with an idiot she could never forgive herself for. But the pain she felt was immense. Not from the small bruises, but from the condition of her legs themselves. Of being so weak, and looking so. What princess would she be if a commoner saw her flaws?

She flinched, feeling a hand pat the top of her head, though when meeting his eyes, Zoro glared in a different direction. “It’s fine.” With heated cheeks, he placed an additional pat then he scooted back to her legs, watching her carefully as he unwrapped the blankets.

The fatigue returned and there was little energy to fight. Her bare legs were revealed, and he rubbed a hand gently over the purplish spots on her calf before unzipping his bag.

“I’m gonna touch a few areas, tell me if it hurts or not.”

“It hurts.”

He glanced up, huffing. “I didn’t ask yet, idiot.”

Zoro dipped a finger into the salve and rubbed it gently into her knee. Thankfully, he was met with no fight, she simply watched and wiped her eyes.

After unrolling the second long sock, his brows dove and he sucked his teeth, peering over her feet. It didn’t strike him before, but while he rubbed her ankles, they didn’t twitch. His hands were warm, not cold, but the touch of another person was enough to make anyone wiggle a toe or laugh. He narrowed and then tickled her toes. They didn’t move, and more perplexing, she didn’t appear alarmed by that fact. 

“Perona.” Zoro swallowed, almost feeling like he was invading with the words he wanted to ask. _Are you paralyzed?_

She met his eyes with a sigh, sitting up and placing both hands on her knees. He followed her placement, squeezing his hands over hers, and then looked down. There was a twitch. She could feel her knees, definitely. He’d seen her move and cross her legs before, so then why weren’t all of her muscles responding? He ran his hand down her smooth skin to her shins and squinted his eyes. There were soft twitches under her shins, and at her calves somewhat. He squeezed slightly, careful to avoid bruises, and then he stopped over her ankles. There was no movement. 

“You can’t feel your feet?” The question came out more like a statement.

When he raised his lids, her eyes were glossy. Any fight she had in her before looked extinguished as she shook her head.

“What happened?”

“Mind your own ugly business.”

Her words left Zoro with his jaw parted, but he said nothing else, retrieving healing salve from his bag and running dallops over the bruised spots on her calves. The areas twitched in response weakly. Then he wrapped both her legs in medical bands. 

His small smile returned with a sigh.

“Do you find this funny?” Her lips pinched together as he raised his mossy head, meeting her with a gentle look that made her blush.

“No, it’s usually you putting me back together.”

His face grew smug as her pink fire returned, and she snapped that being sentimental didn’t suit someone so not cute.

 _Cute_. That was the word he thought of, it made sense. He looked at her smudged cheeks and then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” A chuckle sounded while he packed away the last of the supplies then raised her foot to his chest.

She flinched from the awkward motion, and even more so when he said, “Lay down.” 

“Wh-what? You pervert!” His grin widened and he shook his head. The usual Perona had returned. She groaned as he gave her foot a squeeze, forced to lay back and shut her eyes at the pressure placed under his fingertips. “Ow, stop.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re completely missing nerves,” he said, turning her foot in his hand. 

“And it doesn’t seem like you’re a, ow, doctor, so don’t try to pity me, you idio-OWIE!”

Zoro agreed. He was no doctor by _any_ standard, but he knew where most muscles were. When you pushed your body to its limits constantly, knowing how to isolate areas and treat sprains could be the difference between fighting another day or not.

Though—he furrowed over her ankle—some of her muscles were extremely weak. He squeezed at a spot again and she whimpered this time, covering her mouth. It shouldn’t have hurt horribly, but loosening his own tight spots didn’t exactly feel _good_ so he could empathize.

“What are you do-hah,” her voice caught in her throat as he massaged, pressing his fingers into spots that made her squirm on the bed, teary-eyed. He pushed his warm hands to her calves and rubbed along the sides gently. Her breath released.

“That feels better, doesn’t it?” his voice was deep as she peeked from under the pillow held flush against her face. When she didn’t respond he spoke again. “I won't ask what happened in your past, but you can’t just neglect your body, or it’ll get worse.”

The words felt hypocritical from his own tongue, considering the stitches that ran along his ankles and the various scars he had. Despite the recklessness he’d put himself through for Luffy, healing held somewhat priority. Without rest, he couldn’t fight another day. Even if that rest meant passing out while Chopper tended to him.

By now, he had both her legs resting against his stomach as he rubbed them. Her eyes were half-closed. When she’d wriggle or make a sound, he’d take a rest and then return to the area. He couldn’t help but wonder why he hadn’t noticed her condition despite two months in the same castle. How would he have when she always floated? Ah… he wouldn’t have. A tinge of guilt hit him that he would live with her so long and not pay attention. It's not like she was his nakama, but... it would be weird to live with someone in pain and do nothing about it.

“When’s the last time you walked anywhere?” The question asked itself.

She hummed and rubbed an eye. “I don’t know...”

 _So, years? Months?_ However long, it must have explained the atrophy in her lower legs. Still, it made his previous statement correct. She shouldn’t neglect the area just because she didn’t _need_ to walk with her weird floating power.

“Can you wiggle your toes?”

“No.”

He asked nothing else. Her soft moans returned as he switched to one leg again.

“Jeesh, be quiet at least,” he mumbled, staring at her foot, and _not_ at her thighs spread at an angle where he might see her panties if he looked. He didn't, for the record. Don’t let the newspaper tell it otherwise.

_Weekend Exclusive: Former pirate hunter killed for not perving at a ghost woman._

_Huff._ “Says the dummy grabbing me against my wishes.”

“Well, don’t make it sound like that…” he muttered.

Perona crossed her arms tight over the pillow. What was the idiot on about now when he had the nerve to touch her in such an assuming position? Surely, he wouldn’t be thinking weird thoughts when he still wasn't off the hook. She peeked over the pillow, eyeing him as he shifted. Even in the dim light, there was a tint to his ears as he looked at one foot and _nowhere_ else. 

She snatched back her foot, startling him out of his trance. “Don’t touch me while you’re thinking nasty things!” 

He shook his head then threw up his hands, rolling his eyes with a flame of annoyance that surprised her. “Shit’s sake, Perona, don’t make everything so _difficult.”_

Her jaw dropped, comical under her large round eyes. “Wh-what!?”

“I didn’t mean to walk past your door that _one_ time, alright? Getting off is nothing to be ashamed of.”

A cherry-red Perona stared back at him and screamed, forcing him to press his fingers into his ears. “Wh-what are you talking about!?” _G-getting-_ She was shaking, unable to fathom that a peasant would speak to her in such a manner _. Shaking._

He groaned in irritation, folding his legs under him and placing his palms on both knees. “When I passed your door, and you were… ya know, that night when you uh… saw some things.” The words flowed awkwardly and he somehow felt dirty saying them after her reaction didn't change.

“You thought I was...” her voice lowered, “ _Touching_ myself!?”

“Were you not?” His brows furrowed, aware of his stressed heartbeat.

“No! I was not-” She sighed, hugging the pillow, voice quiet with a touch of sadness. “I was practicing steps. It’s not easy...”

He was silent for a moment, and then another moment, until he softened, feeling a twinge in his chest as he glanced over her legs. Considering the noises she made just getting her feet rubbed, he could imagine his own human error. It... made sense. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he adjusted his yukata to feel a breeze at his neck. “Well, that’s that…”

Silence sank in further without them talking.

“What were you doing at my room, then?”

She scratched a hand at her neck and folded her legs, pulling her ankles in with her hands to copy his position. “I thought you wanted something being outside the door, then you ran off. That was _really_ weird.”

“Oh…” He grabbed handfuls of his pants, falling onto his butt fully. _Of course._ “And I didn’t answer so you opened the door and there I was… jerking off.”

“Don’t say it like that!” she shouted, throwing a pillow at him. 

He let it hit his chest, then tossed it back and sighed, rubbing his forehead. “Great. Now I feel fucking stupid, Perona. I do have to ask how much you saw… like, should I be only _slightly_ embarrassed or moving to another island and changing my name?”

She hummed, tapping a finger against her chin, and rolled her smudged eyes. “You mean _before_ or _after_ you said my name?”

“God,” he groaned, shaking his head. Did the Marine HQ take requests for a bounty name change? “I didn’t mean to, I was just being…”

“A pervert?” She pursed her lips, crossing both arms.

His biceps flexed as he placed his face in his hands, voice muffled. “Or, stupid. Can we just forget it ever happened?” 

In the silence, her laugh surprised him. “Horohoro! And forget your _O-face?_ ”

Fire heated the back of his neck as she laughed again. “Oh come on, give me a break!” He pounded a fist into the round pillow next to him for emphasis.

“It was like _this!”_ She contorted her cheeks, lips, and eyes into a stupid ghost-like look, until she broke the face, laughing harder and falling back onto the pillows.

Hell, he didn't want to, but he burst out laughing. “No, the hell it was not!” His laughs bellowed out before he wiped his eyes, stuttering, “I at least know how _hot_ I look when I come.” 

“Oh, puh-lease. That’s impossible to know, unless-”

He smirked, raising a brow. “Unless you do it in front of a mirror?” And then he was hit with a barrage of pillows, _again,_ as he deserved to be.

Perona decided not to inform him that she couldn’t really see anything when she walked in that night, considering he only had one candelabra in his room on the table furthest away. That left her as blind as a bat. He deserved such embarrassment for being an idiot and pervert. 

Zoro grinned as he crawled a few feet to the edge of the bed and hopped down with a thud, crossing the room to pick up his boots and swords.

“What’s with that creepy smile?” She leaned over the side and tilted her head, eyes squinted at his figure.

“Nothing.” He chuckled and tied his sash. Then he glanced up, brown eyes focused enough to make her flinch. “Just… you’re not so bad.”

Her dark eyes softened and she opened her mouth. 

“Except when you’re your usual self, though. And pink-everything is kind of annoying. Plus, you’re not good at accepting help.”

Seething in anger, she balled her fists.

“But this was nice.” He stood up straight and dusted himself off. “Let’s do this again—hey! Stop with the ghosts!”

“You idiot dummy knucklehead! Who are you calling annoying!?” Small negative hollows shot from her fingertips, chasing him out of the room as he regretted _ever_ being nice to her. 

"And there goes the little power I built up," she grumbled, falling back onto the bed, pouting. "I should've told him to bring me my pajamas."

The following day, the two were back to avoiding each other, glaring from afar across the rose courtyard, much to Mihawk’s confusion. He sipped his afternoon wine on a velvet throne chair, the other hand holding a quill dipped in ink.

“ _Perhaps, an agreement is too soon for the bat and the boy. I suspect things will be worse before they are better, but there is some potential in his training. I want to cook a meal for you. Don't make me wait long.”_

This Mihawk wrote in his weekly letter to his lover.

_Signed, “Wine, not tea.”_

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend told me that long chapters might read better, so hope this one was satisfactory.


	5. Cuteness & Cohabitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro is instructed to do the unthinkable with Perona. Mihawk leaves a confusing note.

“Fuck,” Zoro whispered, “Perona, I’m almost there.” 

His face heated as she hummed, leaning into his personal bubble to ogle down at his lap, pointing with a slender finger. “Hm, you're not gonna ask for help with _that_?”

“I can finish off on my own!” He snapped, worked quickly with his hands, biting his bottom lip in concentration.

“Suit yourself, but why does everything out your mouth have to be so dirty?” She sighed, pulling a needle through her embroidery plaque, stitching small white stars into the black fabric.

Zoro cursed as the needle brushed his thumb, adding another prick to his collection of injuries made learning to sew. “Not everything is going to be prim and cute,” he muttered, furrowing his brow as he struggled to finish the bottom edge of the garment. 

With a sigh, he smiled. “There. Needle and weep.” He straightened from his hunch, popping his back.

She laughed, shaking her head with a wide grin. “Are you a fifty-year-old man or something? What’s with the dad jokes? Horohoro!” The sound of her voice echoed against the high ceiling.

Neck tinted, he folded both buff arms over his chest and smirked, careful not to poke himself with his needled wrist pouf. As he waited, watching her, she looked over his end of the silk and hummed a song, one that he didn’t know even from Brook’s constant tunes.

“Well?” he asked when the silence grew too long.

She flinched at his voice nearly in her ear while he squinted over her hands, chest close to her shoulder. When did he move so close? His body heat spread like wildfire.

“For a beginner, it’s fine. Horo.”

“And for a pro?” 

Twisting her lips to the side, she glanced up, batting her thick lashes. “...not so cute. But at least I’m here to help!”

The hearty phrase was met with an eye roll.

“Great, one more thing I'm shit at,” he said with a sigh. 

“You've been learning for _two weeks_ , dummy.”

“And?” 

She scoffed, crossing her arms, similarly avoiding poking her chest with her pouf. Most of the work _had_ been done by her, but the stitches on his end weren’t _bad_. They just weren’t _great_. That praise meant nothing to such a blockhead.

They broke eye contact, and he sighed again, removing his pouf to the tatami table before rolling onto his stomach over the pile of bean bags and pillows surrounding them. Sunset glare cut across his cheeks from the large stain-glass window, lighting colors across his forehead when she glanced at him. His bulky build seemed comical over the pastel and dark fluffy furniture. 

_Not cute at all_. She smirked to herself, eyeing his depressed profile. _Oh, his lashes are long_.

Minutes of silence passed, and she looked up again as his brows remained knit together and his chin rested over his knuckle. “You’re thinking about someone,” she said, picking the plaque to finish the pocket. “Sometimes I think about Moria-sama.”

Zoro balled handfuls of bean bag then released, repeated, and rolled onto his back, opting to focus on the high painted ceiling instead. When he’d landed on the island, he chose the simple room where she tended to him by default. Now it seemed unfair that she slept in such a luxurious space. 

“Do you have a thing for that giant weird guy?” He lurched, feeling negative. “I-I’m not even cute.” Then he glared at her, sitting up slowly with a hand over his stomach as the hollow flew away. “What gives?”

She raised a single finger, eyes narrowed. “Moria-sama raised me like a princess, and he gave me a chance to be normal, so don’t speak so little of him, it’s ugly. I don’t _like_ uglies.”

Zoro in return shifted away from her upset eyes, clenching his jaw. “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to train.” He dusted off his pants and stood, stepping carefully around the table before shuffling to the door where his swords were propped.

The door closed, and his steps faded, leaving her to listen to sounds of nature outside the window.

With a sigh, Perona finished her last star and held up the garment, a silky black yukata good for sleeping in or as loungewear. She folded and placed it on her table next to a pair of unfinished puffy shorts and the frame for a striped camisole.

“Ah-” She removed her pouf from her hand, poked by a needle. A dot of blood sat on the tip of her finger, tiny but growing in size. It stared back at her, swirling memories. The wind was gentle today, similar to that day.

That day...

_The blue-gray-skinned man frowned, turning his head to the side at the crying girl._

_“It hurts, Moria!” Perona wined, tears running down her cheeks. She hicced back gulps of spit as he raised her to his eye-level with a single hand, inspecting the finger that she held out to him._

_Small in size, she sat in his large palm as he smiled with all perfect teeth. The words were gentle like a whisper, “Silly girl, a little blood isn’t scary. We all have it inside of us.”_

_“I don’t like blood.” She murmured, lips poked out and chin tucked to her chest. “Blood is scary.”_

_Moria sighed, running a finger over her pink head of hair as she crossed her arms, 'hmph'ing. “A lot of things are scary, poor girl. Sometimes scary isn’t so bad, like costumes on All Night Eve. Do they do that in this land?”_

_Perona sniffled back a snicker. “Like mummies and ghosts? That’s not cute at all!”_

_“You don’t even think I’m cute?” He pouted, wide dark lips curling downward as she laughed out, shaking her legs and arms._

_“Moria-sama, you’re super cute!” The giggles couldn’t stop._

Perona sighed, rubbing her hands through her bangs as she sat up from the table, a reddish smooth imprint on her cheek. “I must have dozed off.” Kumachi sat next to her with his brown face and blue hat, watching as always.

Sounds of swords clashing rang outside her window, indicating that Zoro and Mihawk’s training ensued. She clasped both hands in front of her and raised her palms in an arch, stretching like a cat over the bean bag until her back popped. Then she looked at the ceiling, tracing the painted figures of ballroom dancers.

“Bears are better anyway.”

~*~

Perona shoveled rice into her mouth after pouring sugar over the top. Mihawk glared in her direction with a distasteful look, sipping his wine with narrowed eyes at the head of the table.

“Do you sweeten everything, _girl_?”

She smirked, wiping her lips, and spoke with a full mouth. “Evwythwing is bwetter sweet!” Her hand raised and palm laid flat, as though to blow a lighthearted kiss.

Mihawk frowned in response, seeming to brush away the gesture. He directed his attention left to Zoro who slumped over the table with little energy from his training session.

“Tomorrow,” Mihawk spoke, watching candles over the table float in a sequence like fireflies, “I leave tomorrow.”

Silence sank in.

Zoro’s head snapped up and Perona choked, causing the candles to fall to the table and the soft piano to speed up in tempo. A small flame lit from the table runner and Mihawk flicked his butter knife in-between his fingers, cutting the oxygen of the fire from the very air before glaring at Perona to his right. 

The music stopped.

Zoro gulped, finally paying attention. “Like, for good?”

Perona shook under the harsh glare, apologetic for the mess and equally confused.

“If either of you _children_ would ever listen to me, you’d know that I previously informed you of my short excursion out. I will return in a week, or such and so on.” Mihawk casually waved the butter knife, making both of them stiffen.

“ _Or such!?_ ” Zoro’s voice raised, met by the intense golden eyes that then forced his body to sink into the chair. How would he train on his own? What technique did he need to practice next? Sure, exercise was easy... but...

"And so on..." Perona muttered, flicking a hand to resume the gentle piano. Mihawk calmly drank a sip of wine as she began to remember him mentioning he’d be going out, but she had thought it would be a typical run for supplies. The mansion was well-equipped with pantry foods and even back-up candelabras. Mihawk often took day trips for news or to gather information. He’d return the same day or next morning. Never _a week._

The man in question placed down his glass. “Relax. You will meet your goal. I’ve written down an interim training plan. You can work on technique and endurance while I am gone, et cetera.”

Zoro nodded his head, but his hair fell over his forehead, shadowing his brow line as he sighed. Fatigue hit him more than disappointment that the regimen he'd gotten used to would be delayed. Shouldn't he feel excited to not be beaten for a few days? The island must have turned him into a masochist.

“Don’t worry, if you get lost, I’ll show you the way.” Perona offered encouragement.

“Perona will oversee your training.”

“Yessir. And I’ll oversee your—what!?” she shouted, raising three inches into the air, only to lower deep into her seat when Mihawk glared at her _again_. Unlike Zoro, she puffed up her chest and sat up, face pink.

“Mihawk-kun, that’s not fair! I don’t know how to sword fight!” she whined, kicking her feet like a child.

“You will train him,” Mihawk's tone grew intense, halting her tantrum, and the remaining candle on the table flickered out. They sat in the dark, listening to the gentle song that continued.

Zoro said nothing, reaching to light the candelabra with a lighter from his pocket. Seeing Perona’s pale expression, he didn’t oppose, and she nodded her head with a constipated smile. “Y-yes, I will train him until he… uh… gets much cuter!” Upon looking at Zoro's face, she grimaced. _If such thing is possible._

“Very well, I entrust it to you.” Mihawk swallowed down the rest of his wine and placed the glass on the table, excusing himself from dinner. They followed his evil sashay with their eyes and then let out a unanimous breath when the dining room door squeaked shut. _Huff._

“Th-that, I thought I was going to die,” she whispered, grabbing her cheeks with her hands.

Zoro looked down at his rice and mystery curry, frowning. One week wasn’t so long in the grand scheme of two years, but he still hadn’t made a significant break-through in four months of learning sword mastery, minus the time he spent healing and hating himself.

“It’s useless,” he growled, shoveling a spoon into his mouth.

“Don’t be un-cute. I’m not that bad, I trained the zombies at—” she slowed her tone, seeing that his brow furrowed deep, indicating that he’d entered his own thoughts. Her body lowered into the chair's cushion and she ate her rice in silence, sighing. Nothing could pull that idiot out of a mood once he’d set his mind on it.

Dabbing her lips with a napkin, she thought back to the day she read him the paper about Straw-Hat-chan. That little twerp—who for the record was taller than she—didn’t seem like the captain type, not like her Moria, but seeing that he was okay had the sword idiot almost crying.

While she never asked, the way Zoro sometimes looked out of the window or sighed at the sky made it seem like they weren’t just captain and crewmate. Though, of course, she could just be speculating because that would be such a spicy gossip. He probably had a girl somewhere that he thought of or even a dog. Men were dumb like that.

 _Horohoro._ She laughed to herself. Straw-Hat was kind of cute, though, for a man. With the right outfit, he'd almost be as cute as her. He could be a ghost baron or lord, since she was the princess and should assign her court.

She giggled in her thoughts while Zoro raised a brow across the table.

~*~

“Did he give you the training regimen?” Zoro asked, squinting in the sunlight.

She nodded, frowning at a piece of paper.

“What’s it say?”

“Wait.”

“Come on, give it here,” he said, swiping a hand at the sheet.

“No!” She raised the paper over her head, and then her face turned red, staring down at his hand clasping her breast. “Z-zoro, you pervert!”

 _Wh-what!? No!_ He snatched his hand back in horror. “No way! One hundred percent an accident! One hundred!” he shouted as his legs moved out from under him, dashing away from her shouting voice.

“Do you want to become a ghost!?”

Dust kicked up under his feet as he glanced back, hating himself for laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. _Hah!_ He hadn’t even meant to grab her, God. _Hahaha!_ How had she even dodged him so fast? The laughs choked out.

“I will end you with your own sword!” she cried, raising a red hilt in her hands.

 _My own what!?_ He stopped with his heels and glared down at his belt, seeing wado ichimonji and shusui in their hilts, and then his face warped to shock. _Cursed_ sword kitetsu was gone and in her unstable hands.

“W-wait, put that down!” Zoro raised his palms, approaching her wild, angry form.

"I can't," she whispered.

"You can!"

"I can't."

"You can't?" His head turned to the side, watching the blade carefully. It wasn't known to _possess_ people, as far as he knew. Kitetsu certainly hadn't taken control of him.

"I'm just so angry." She shook her head, furrowing her brows as emotion overcame her. "I can only think to cut you down."

The saliva in his mouth dried as she flew toward him, arms raised in improper form.

"Wait!"

Zoro blinked and her silhouette changed from floating to _falling_. _She tripped?_ — _tripped_ in the air!? What bad luck, no, _horrible,_ luck that only a cursed blade could create.

Perona, equally confused and stumbling forward, launched the sword in her hands upward. The sword flew, and she tilted her head up slowly, attempting to comprehend the fact that she _tripped_ in mid-air. 

A shiver touched her neck, sensing a negative feeling fade from her, followed to the weapon as it rotated and fell downward toward her. In its reflection there flashed a dark smile that made her jaw part until she blinked, seeing the reflection of the sun. _That sword._ _Why is he carrying that thing around!?_

“Oof!” a choke escaped her as Zoro’s chest collided with her face and his arms wrapped around her shoulders. Surprised at the sudden speed and equally disturbed by the sword, she watched it fall closer to them while peeking out from his chest. Zoro closed his eyes and exhaled, extending an arm.

 _Dummy, you’ll get cut!_ Her throat was too dry to shout.

Kitetsu sliced through the air, charging down to his open palm. The red hilt instead brushed against the back of his hand, rotating over his wrist until he held it firmly with a clenched fist and glared. An evil smile met him, and Zoro bared his teeth. _Do not touch her._

Perona peeked an eye at the sword again, seeing defeated red eyes stare back, making her clutch his shirt. Blink. The sky reflected again, showing Zoro's own eyes, and then his head turning to face her.

_Wh-what was-_

“Never,” his voice deepened, forcing her attention upward as she released his shirt, floating out of his hold. He clutched the fabric at her waist to secure her, bringing their faces nearly eye level. “ _Never_ touch this sword, it’s cursed.”

 _Th-that much I can tell._ Perona nodded, gawking at the sword in his hand. Whatever demon lived in it wasn’t cute at all, and he must have been crazy to carry that thing around. It almost took his own arm off.

She turned her head back to him and his face had changed from the stoic expression to now one of surprise. His arm loosened around her waist as he realized how tightly he had grabbed her. Oddly, there was still room in his squeezing grip.

Their eyes met and she let out a soft laugh. “Horohoro. It’s always something new with you.”

The echo of her voice touched his face and he grinned as well, seeming to finally sigh. “Now you know why I’m so protective of my swords.” She hit his chest and laughed. He joined her with a deep chuckle and then grew quiet.

Why they hadn’t broken the hold, or at least he hadn’t, he didn’t know. It felt odd to still cling to her, and she wasn’t particularly warm in his arms, but her large eyes made the slight breeze around him slow and the sound of leaves whispering against the ground soften.

Perona didn’t know how to react when he leaned his head forward until their noses were inches apart and the look in his eyes gave away his intentions.

 _Can I?_ He asked without words. 

She pressed her forehead to his, floating to close the distance. _Yes, you can._ His nose brushed to the side of hers, and her hands cupped his cheeks, elbows rested at his chest.

They kissed.

~*~

_Moria grinned. “Does it still hurt?”_

_She shook her head, looking down at the scratch on her finger made from the orange kitten that grew agitated after she had crawled after it. The kitten meowed in the corner, almost as though to say sorry as Moria lowered her to the ground and she called it over again._

_“Boss.” A blond teenage boy with red eyes and blue pearls in his ears entered, walking silently to the much larger man. Moria leaned down to hear the whisper, “Navy was spotted. We should leave, captain.”_

_Moria nodded, dismissing him, then he glanced down at Perona who crawled after the cat in her tattered pink dress. Kids ran around and played, but she wasn’t afforded the same luxury. The sea was dangerous, but there was nothing for her on an island where other children were afraid of her and she could barely have necessities met. Such loneliness was inhumane for a girl._

_“Perona, I’m leaving.”_

_She looked up, large hat falling across her watery eyes._

_“Do you want to come with me?”_

_Truthfully spoken, he half-expected her to say, “Why?” or even, “No,” or look confused. The kingdom was her home, not just some random island, and she had a right to it. He didn’t come to know her for long._

_A wide toothy grin spread across her face as she yipped, “Yup!”_

_“A-are you sure? The sea isn’t safe.”_

_“I’ll be okay!” The sun-light glistening against her face made his heart squeeze. “Because you’re just like me, Moria! I’m scary and cute!” His mouth fell open, slowly laughing._

_“Moria-sama,” he said, “You can call me Moria-sama.”_

_She shuffled to him on her knees, squealing out the higher name and struggling to stand as her legs gave out under her. She managed to balance on her bruised feet and grin at him, proving her will to live. “When do we leave, Moria-sama?”_

_“As soon as we find you some shoes,” the words escaped as a laugh, and he lifted her up to his shoulder, glaring at the cat that would dare scratch his tiny crewmate. “And I will make sure you walk, no, **fly** even, like the princess that you are.”_

_The blond approached again as Moria walked through the poverty-stricken streets of the city, ogled at by small children that hid behind broken staircases or in alleyways. She stuck out her tongue, blowing raspberries at all of them._

_“Are we taking the girl?” he asked, looking up at Perona. She hugged Moria in return, making a face at the boy as Moria said a firm yes._

_“The sea’s no place for a g—” Blond choked on his words, having not felt the shadow that crawled up his back and squeezed his neck. When the pressure released, he corrected himself and gave her a hearty smile, “She will make a wonderful addition to the crew. She’s c-cute.”_

_Perona’s eyes widened. “R-really!? You think I’m cute? What’s your name?”_

_“Absalom,” he muttered, thinking, ‘And her guardian is one to fear.’_

_“Say it again, ugly-salom!”_

_He sighed. “You’re cute… and it’s Absalom. AB-salom.”_

_She squealed in excitement, demanding more praise as they hurried to the ship. The Navy would be arriving soon._

_In the alleyway where Perona once played in, crawling on the ground unable to run with the other children, an orange kitten lay dead by unknown causes. An autopsy might say it was strangled, but nothing was near the cat other than its own shadow._

_“I will protect you,” said Moria_ _again, with a smile._

~*~

A new day came with the lord of the castle gone.

“I don’t get it,” Zoro said, tapping his hands on the kitchen counter with one hand, and clenching the folded paper with the other. “Why is my training plan an ingredients list?” 

Perona hummed, floating an inch to lean an arm over his shoulder. “Maybe he was really hungry when he left.”

“There’s nothing I can learn from this…” He shook his head, shaking where he stood. “This is inedible, how can you put anchovies and honey in the same dish?” That was the real issue at hand.

She sighed, releasing her touch. “I never cook dinner, so don’t ask me.”

He continued to ponder over the list, standing in the center of the large castle kitchen before rummaging through wooden cabinets to check that it would be possible to cook such a complicated dish. “Then why would he ask you?”

When he looked up, she floated on her back, arms folded behind her head, humming.  
Her hair hung in a long wavy ponytail straight down. She seemed fine after their kiss, but he couldn’t relax. What was he thinking, putting his hands on her? He wasn’t. Licking his lips, he glanced over her button nose and those fairly soft lips.

“Oh!” Her eyes darted to him, making him flinch and then hate himself for it. “Maybe it’s…”

As she lowered to chest-level, she sat up and crossed a leg under the other, motioning him over. He pushed off from the counter and approached, watching her snatch the parchment, flip it over, then sigh.

“What is it?”

“I thought there’d be words on the back.”

Zoro's face froze, then he stuttered out a laugh, shaking his head. His hair, grown to the nape of his neck, shifted as he brushed a hand through it. “Are you an idiot? Wouldn’t you have seen that already?” 

Perona puffed out her lips. “Then don’t ask me for help! Hurry up and cook your nasty pasta!”

He gaped, glaring at her, and then whipped around, muttering and grabbing ingredients, most of which would taste horrible together, so he put some back. When he glanced back, she was gone, and it almost relieved him. For the first time in minutes, he exhaled fully.

_They kissed._

_Zoro broke his hold, face turning beet red. “I- I- didn’t mean to-” he stammered, unable to provide some semblance of a response. Her expression held no answers._

_“Here,” she said, extending the paper that started their fight. “I don’t understand it, though.” He sheathed his sword and then gulped, accepting Mihawk’s wishes as she backed away from him, leaving a breeze between them where he had held her waist before._

Zoro sighed. Should he have said he didn’t mean to kiss her? Technically, he _didn’t,_ but he also _did._ There must have been something wrong with him. They’d just began to live together without almost killing each other constantly, and he had to fuck with that. _God;_ he didn’t even believe such a fucker existed, but if they did, they really hated him.

~*~

Perona washed her hands and looked in the mirror, checking that her eyeliner wasn’t smudged. Then she laughed, pressing both hands to the side of the large-bowl sink that was in the bathroom across from her room. That idiot had really wanted to kiss her and then act shy about it!? It’s not like she could blame him, considering how adorable she was. _Such a dummy!_

If she’d met a human possibly as cute as her, she wouldn’t be able to stay away from them either. She turned her head to either side, checking that her braided fishtail was secure, and then departed. She hummed to herself in the halls which were otherwise silent, save for clanks of pots and pans coming from the kitchen. Mihawk often confused her with his demands but leaving a cooking list instead of a training plan really took the cake.

“I’m back!” she chimed, watching him drop a bag of garlic and then bolt upright to lean against the counter. Her lips curled into a smirk, taking in the awkward and clunky demeanor he held.

“Yeah…” he muttered, bending down to pick up the fallen cloves with a hot face.

Her fingers snapped, and they raised to his hands. The kiss had definitely affected him, and this made her smirk further, seeing the tint of anticipation in his eyes as she floated to the counter next to him, taking a seat and watching him now peel the skin off the cloves, glancing at her over his shoulder once.

When he looked away, rinsing assorted vegetables in the washbin, she said, “Let's do it.” Zoro choked, turning his head slightly as she smiled and asked, “You want to, don't you?” crossing her legs in a way that definitely meant nothing.

Zoro's brow twitched, accompanied by a feeling of danger and—damn his _other_ brain—as he absorbed her words. “You want to cook together?” He relaxed his posture, convincing himself that he was overthinking as she nodded.

 _Right._ He turned and rolled his eyes, mostly to himself, as he spread ingredients over the counter and she floated near, seemingly unaware of his pathetic thoughts. One kiss and he was acting like a teenage girl.

_Sigh._

“This recipe is kind of jank, but the pasta will be easy, I think.” Or, at least, it seemed easy enough when the cook made it countless times for a quick dinner on the ship. Never with anchovies, though... or _honey._

They worked together in silence, her measuring out herbs while he washed peppers, focusing solely on the tin in front of him and lost in his thoughts. When he rose and stretched his back, he scrolled his eyes over her and smirked. She wore the same outfit: a striped short sleeve shirt, black skirt with leggings, and clunky boots but now she donned a pink frilly apron and chef hat. He chuckled again, placing the vegetables together on the chopping board.

“What?” She raised a brow, floating to watch him cut into a green pepper after she closed a bag of dry pasta.

“Nothing, you look ridiculous,” he muttered, grinning while her eyes widened in shock.

 _Scoff._ “As if! If you're going to _comment_ boyish thoughts, use words like dainty, adorable, and-”

“And cute?”

“Exactly! And as someone so cute-what?” She lowered to his height, narrowing her eyes. Now, surely he was the one messing with her, and that was no fair.

“Do you want to cut some of these?” he asked, motioning to the peppers and onions.

She stuttered, crossing her arms to squint at him. His eyes had a playful tint to them, though that could have been the sun rays through the skylight shining over his stupid head. “Fine,” she said with a huff, sticking out her hand, “Give me that knife.”

Zoro took a step forward, knife in his hand as he approached her slowly. Then he sighed and placed it on the table. _Oh, fuck it._ He grabbed her hand, earning a quip as he yanked her forward. Allowing the surprise to settle as their faces nearly touched again, his arms slithered around her waist to close the distance enough to leave room for her to place hands between them. Plus, an extra inch for God.

A bird cawed outside, signaling that a moment had passed with him looking at her lips, waiting for a reaction while her blush faded. Her hands touched his biceps and she finally laughed quietly in her mouth. The sound was soft and sweet up close, making him want to kiss her already, but he held a loose grip and watched her posture.

She placed a peck on his lips. “You're quite eager to do the cooking.”

Zoro rolled his eyes at her words, taking permission to pull her closer before smiling. Her chest was flush against him, and her arms wrapped around his neck, leaving no room this time. “Yeah, I'm _very_ eager to do the cooking.”

Finally, their lips met and didn’t separate.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I loved writing this chapter! Let's see where Mihawk has headed off to ;>


	6. Phantom Bottle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro feels the effects of his old habits. Perona trains him as Mihawk instructed. Zoro makes a sudden request.

"One, two, three." Forward.

"One, two, three." Left.

"One, two, three." Turn.

Zoro sucked in his abdominals, holding his stiff spine upright for as long as he could, the long orchestra of sound whining against his ears. The weight of her body sent fire from his forearms to his shoulders. He could feel her breath on his ear as she looked into the empty space at his right. He tried not to lock onto the mandrills dancing around him but failed. Their twirls turned his eyes dizzy but it was the counting and slow clap that made him want to hurl. His heart raced violently with the sound.

"One, two, three." Back.

"One," _shit,_ "three-" 

The music stopped.

"No!"  Perona snapped as he stepped on her toe, then looking down in horror at her blistering face. He turned his head over his shoulder inch by inch. The punishing glare of Mihawk emerged as a pale sphere in the darkness. She trembled in his arms and he swallowed, tightening his hand around her waist. Their extended palms grew sweaty clasped together.

"Do you want to _die_?"

Zoro shook his head, unable to respond, only half-hyperventilate. The slow music began again. He forced his legs, stepping in circles as the mandrills danced with sake bottles around him. He managed to lead Perona into four counts successfully, knowing that he might pass out if he stopped moving. Mihawk nodded in approval, a smile curling on his evil lips as he raised the wine glass.

"Excellent. This will taste excellent."

Perona suddenly screamed, grasping onto Zoro's body as the sweet floor tipped toward Mihawk's mustache, forcing all in it to slide down the edge of the glass. They were to be drank with his afternoon meal. Zoro shouted, grabbing for a holding but the floor was liquid. He fell with her into the abyss of his master's throat.

~*~

"No!" Zoro snapped awake, blinking away the horror. He took a labored breath, recognizing the ceiling of the castle's entrance room. One of his legs rested on the purple couch, the bulk of his body on the floor. Perona's face loomed over as she floated on her stomach several feet in the air. She twirled her hair back and forth, leaning a bored fist against a cheek.

"Hey ugl-"

He snapped upright, a sour churn in his stomach rising up to his ears. _F-fuck no._ His hands smacked over his mouth as he dry-heaved, struggling onto his knees with imbalance.

"Hey!" Perona sat up and crossed her legs, watching him stumble to the castle doors. She sighed and snapped a finger, instructing the tall doors to open as his figure disappeared. _Huff._

Zoro fell into a brush of bushes, heaving once before his stomach emptied leaving the taste of bile in his mouth. _And after all that cooking_ , he whispered in his mind. Then his stomach released again, a punishment for even thinking of food. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand,  unsteadily rising. 

Perona's figure cleared into view at the corner of his eye. She flicked a hand, and a damp rag floated to him. Save for disgust, her face showed no signs of pity or concern. The back of his neck heated from the sour sensation of being watched. "Are you going to do that every other time you eat?"

"It won't affect my training, it's fine." His head hurt as he wiped his mouth and then his hand.

Ignoring her allowed him to notice how sweaty his back was, and the trembling of his arms as though he were still holding her. _Just two years._ He clutched his stomach, forcing it to settle and not cry out for the burn of alcohol.

"Zoro-"

"I said I'm fine," he hissed, balling up the rag in his hand.

There was a moment of silence.

"Are you sure?" Mihawk asked in return. "You can back out if abstaining is too hard."

Zoro growled in his throat, "I don't _need_ to drink." _Luffy needs me more._ A laugh met his ears and he snapped his head to the wicked sound, blinking as Mihawk stood, no, _floated_ , at the doors of the castle.  He wore a hot pink skirt, striped tights over his legs, and a cropped tank top that struggled to hold over his muscled pecks. His jet black hair was tied into two mini pigtails.

"Wh-what." Zoro's stuttered, shaking his head. "P-perona, stop that!"

Mihawk bore his teeth, crossing his arms. "Don't be disrespectful, boy." _What the fuck, what the actual-_ He raised the long black sword yoru with a hand and pointed it at Zoro. "If you don't wish to die, then pick up your blade."

"Wait!" He scratched at his waist but met empty air instead of his swords. "Shit!" Mihawk charged at him.

~*~

Zoro screamed out, forcing Perona to drop the ball of yarn she'd been knitting. He shook where he lay, scrambling to sit up on the pile of pillows across from her.

_S_ _eriously? _ She raised a brow, watching him glance around and sigh, then wiping the sweat from his forehead. She picked up her needles to continue the tight knitting of what might be a pair of socks or scarf. _Such an idiot._

Zoro rubbed his eyes, using the other shaky hand to reach to the tatami table for a cup of water. _Why the hell am I even here_ \- Shit, he remembered. ...kissing her in the kitchen... three days ago? His cheeks heated, hidden by the cup as he held it with two hands to drink. That was twice too many times. Nothing had happened since, save for cooking and lessons in that stupid dance.

_"It's not a stupid dance! It's a waltz. Wrap your ugly brain around that. W-a-l-t-z."_

He shook his head, lowering the cup to stretch his sore shoulders. It was odd to him that he would feel so tired as if he had sparred with Mihawk.

In the morning, he would work on sword flow, watched by mandrills and the breathing sway of the forest. Eventually, Perona would send a ghost for him, and he cooked dinner with whatever he could find. Then, he was coerced into practicing odd movements with her, and at night, he trained with his dumbbells. 

He swallowed down the last gulp, deliberately sighing to himself. 

What if Mihawk had meant to leave a real training regimen and not a recipe? Or worse, what if he _had_ meant to, and not engaging in such tasks would earn a worse backlash. _I just need haki._

Perona hummed, working at her square of dark red yarn. The needles moved quickly, forcing him to look, yet unable to follow the pattern. Simple stitches were one thing, but knitting was made for those with small and swift hands, not a fighter. He watched, somewhat glad for the distraction.

Then it was quiet.

"I don't get it," she said in a soft tone, not looking up from her task.

He shifted his legs to lean an elbow on a knee while placing down the mug with his free hand. Against his back, he felt no rays of the sun. Nightfall would be soon, and his personal training would commence.

"Get what?" he responded.

She hummed, then lowered her hands, raising her eyes in a squint that made him uncomfortable. "If you haven't been drinking, why are you still having nightmares?"

"I'm _not_ having nightmares."

Perona rolled her eyes. "Then it's ugly screaming? That's how you wake up?" A slight smile formed on her mouth as she giggled. _That's so ugly. Horo._

Zoro's face burned, running a hand through his scalp to the nape of his neck. "It's _not_ every day."

"Oh?" She raised a brow, hands stopping their motion. The smile remained, and he hated it.

"Fuck off!" he snapped, earning flickers from the candlelight in the room as she flinched. "I don't have a problem with-" His stomach ached, a negative feeling over him. "C-cuteness."

She composed herself and the light stilled, placing the yarn and needles on the table. A finger called back her small ghost. "You're thinking about it right now, you talked about it in your sleep." 

Zoro balled his fists, forcing his body to rise from the pillows instead of retorting, his muscles waking up from the effort. They weren't going to talk about it, the stupid kiss. And he didn't want to talk about anything else, either. He squinted to find his sword belt by the door, and then snatched it up and tied it at his waist, the weight being a familiar comfort.

She didn’t beckon for him to return.

In the days of traveling with Luffy, he'd feel a light weight on his opposite hip, sake. A bottle squandered from other pirates was a treat for when he could finally sit down and have a nap. Luffy would poke his face awake and then cock his head to the side as Zoro looked at him groggily. _"Zoro, you need to eat meat."_ The captain would smell like he'd eaten first but still hold out a gentle hand.

The door creaked open as he pushed a hand against the cold metal latch, waking up his nerves. He trailed into the hallway, knowing he'd eventually reach his room.

_"Alcohol is more than enough sustenance." Zoro scoffed, pulling the bottle to his lips to suckle himself back into a nap.  
_

_Sanji glared at him, yellow hair pale in the moonlight. His arms crossed tight from his place across the deck, frilly apron over his chest. Disgusting. With a point of his spatula, he said, "You're going to eat, marimo." _

_Zoro rolled his eyes, ready to fight, but unable to reject Luffy's pout. He let the captain pull him to his feet, taking most of his weight as he stumbled, head dulling from the liquor. Zoro then grunted and stood up straight, passing the angry eyes of the cook as he shuffled into the kitchen with a grin._

_The crew looked up from their plates, mid-laughing and joking. "Zo-ros-not-dead! Yo-ho-ho-ho!" Brook sang out in tune with his fiddle. Usopp snorted up his juice, smacking a hand on the table as Chopper laughed._

Zoro slammed his fist against the wall, tightening it hard. His knuckles turned as light as they could with his tan complexion, arm shaking as the force of the wall hit him back.

"Training," he whispered.

_Sake_ , his body whispered back.

"Training."

_Sake_.

"Training."

_Training._

The thoughts ceased when he'd found his way to his room, trudging to the large barbells at the far end.  They glistened in the moonlight of the full-sized windows, welcoming him away from the world of cooked meals and waltzing.  Away from the comfort of a warm bottle resting at his hip and the drunken laughter of Usopp and Chopper swinging him around in a sloppy dance while Luffy watched smiling. He was always smiling. 

~*~

Sunlight smacked Zoro right between the eyes as he woke up in a panic. His body was bent awkwardly on the bed. One leg was falling off, and the other twisted in the sheets. A slight unease filled his stomach, which he buried quickly, forcing himself to climb onto the bed fully. _Sigh._

"I can't keep this shit up," he said to no one, rubbing the crust from his eyes.

He'd dreamt of Luffy again. There was nothing else to it, just his face smiling at Zoro, and then pained as he lost his brother. Zoro's head could make up few details of Enies Lobby than he'd seen in the paper, but it got creative with squeezing the guilt from the scene, even once having Luffy cry and grab Zoro's shoulders.

Zoro stared at the empty candlestick on his nightstand, and then tossed it across the room, testing the fatigue in his shoulder. The clanging noise helped him wake up, and he rose from the bed, meeting the cool touch of the stone floor to his feet. 

"Zoro?" a soft voice asked when he'd made his way to the window. He paused, pushing the handle to receive breeze.

"I'm training." A harmless lie. There was a huff. He marveled at how sensitive his ears felt. The screech of birds seemed to... hurt, almost. Then he crossed the room to make the bed, reveling in such mundane tasks in place of day-drinking. _I never used to do this._

He flinched, hearing the shuffle of feet by the door. Restless, no intention of leaving.

_Sigh._ He released the end of his blanket and approached, yanking the door open. 

Perona blinked at him, startled. She was staring _up_ at him, which felt odd. Ghost power or not, she never wanted to look up to any man, let alone him.

"What?" 

Perona blinked at his bare chest, realizing her placement. She rose a few inches to meet his eyes. "I made breakfast."

The word made him blink. _"Breakfast?"_

"Yes!" She placed fists on her hips, the spatula in her left hand clear.

Zoro felt his mouth crease slightly at the apron and short white hat on her head. He chose to cough instead of a smile, then asked, "Why?"

Perona pouted. "What do you mean ‘why,’ just come eat!"

"Can't." He crossed his arms. "I have to train."

She blew a raspberry and the door shut in his face, shocking him. 

_Did she just slam my own door on me?_ The thought humored him, leaving a smirk as he turned around. 

_Breakfast?_ He hadn't eaten it at all on the island. For a man who put so much focus on cooking dinner, Mihawk never forced any other meal. 

Zoro crossed the room to the dresser he used. It had four drawers, and the bottom two were empty. Atop it was a dusty rectangular mirror and jug of water next to a cup. He picked up the jug and a rag, pouring water over the top, enough to leave it damp. Zoro sighed at his tired reflection, wiping sweat from his chest and neck, reaching to his back and then below his waist.

_"Roronoa." Mihawk had an odd look on his face, as though he were convincing himself of something. "Do you bathe?"_

_Zoro laid on the ground staring up at him. He couldn't move if he tried. Only his eyes followed Mihawk as he paced._

_"I am teaching you the sword, but you must learn to live or it is pointless. Do you plan to some day tarnish this title with the smell of-"_

Zoro placed the rag over the ledge of the open window to dry faster. The sun was fairly bright for the morning, meaning it would be a hot day. _Maybe a heat current is passing._ Or whatever Nami would say.

He grabbed a shell top with the sleeves ripped off and sandals rather than boots. An empty yet fully-stocked castle made it convenient to live on such a gloomy island.

Kuraigana castle was larger than it looked from the outside. At the great entrance hall, there was purple velvet seating. Behind it were the halls that led left, right, and straight upward a grand flight of stairs. The first floor was split between quarters once used by lesser servants: guard's barracks, training rooms, the kitchen, a dining room, and a communal bath. On the second floor, there were specialty rooms, Zoro and Perona's rooms, and the library. The castle's shape was a U, allowing the rooms toward the back to overlook a fountain courtyard with grapevines. The third floor was used only by Mihawk; a place for his king suite and personal study.

Zoro cracked his neck and shook his arms, fully awake as he clacked down the painting-lined halls, shoes smacking the stone. There was a draft despite the sun's intention, and he shivered, belt shaking with him. The rooms to the castle were open as he traversed by, taking note at how much he hadn't cared to explore. Doors always seemed to open and close of their own volition. 

"Oh, it's you," Perona said dryly as he entered the kitchen, looking at her with surprised eyes. 

"I should say the same," he didn't say, recognizing that _he_ had entered himself despite shooing her off. He lowered his eyes to the bowl in her hand, suddenly smelling an aroma like cinnamon.

She sat on the counter and shoveled in a strange _mush_ to her mouth, swinging her legs back and forth. Did she always wake up so early?

"It's noon," she answered his look, earning a yelp of horror from him.

"W-what?!" Zoro snapped his head to the windows. No wonder it's so fucking bright, no wonder- _fuck_. "How-did I sleep so late-" his words were jumbled as he struggled. _It's not hot, it's the freaking afternoon._

Perona chewed, watching him take a deep breath and calm down. She had slept in late as normal, but it seemed odd to find out that the blockhead was still asleep after she woke up. How did she know? With a ghost friend, Rikku, and it always told her where the others' positions were after waking her up with a fresh cup of tea. Zoro never slept later than sunrise unless Mihawk really wore him out.

She hummed, spooning mush to her mouth. The sound snapped him out of his trance.

"Do you want some?" she asked, following his glare.

"No, I train on... empty."

"You sure?" She batted her eyes.

Zoro shook his head, stomach growling in return as he turned on foot. His body hissed in a slow ache for sustenance, leaving a pit of acid in its place the further he stepped, the cooking smell making him dizzy.

"Suit yourself-"

"Wait." 

"Hm?" 

"Yeah." Zoro's muscles applauded as he rotated his head to her with hungry eyes, loathing the delicate curve of her lips as she pulled the spoon from her mouth.

_I like that look,_ Perona smirked, placing down the spoon and snapping a finger. A bowl levitated from the cabinet to a small pot and then to his raising hand. He inspected it with his eyes.

"It's not poisoned."

"I know, just-" he shook his head, not finishing his sentence. He carried the mush to the circular wooden table and chairs overlooking the garden. _I'll have to work out twice as much._

Perona followed, body raising from the counter in the same position to sit across from him. 

"You never eat breakfast with us," she said, leaning against one hand, daring to place an elbow on the table without Mihawk there to watch.

Then it was silent.

Zoro lifted a spoon to his lips and nearly sighed into it, swallowing the mush down before tasting. The fifth bite he let sit on his tongue, noting a sweet, gingery flavor, and a clear hint of something else. It almost tasted like-

Perona watched Zoro intently, noting that she'd never seen him eat breakfast, and... had never seen his ugly face twist so rapidly. Her eyes widened, switching between his pupils. "W-what is it?"

Zoro bolted upright from his chair. "This is-"

She blinked, confused. "It's porridge."

He shook his head. "No, there's rum in this. I know the taste." He muttered other words that she squinted, struggling to hear. She shot a glance to Rikku, the ghost's face unmoving as it lowered behind the counter.

Perona crossed her arms, carefully rising from the chair. The sunlight glinted across the top of her bangs, the rest of her hair tied in a sloppy braided ponytail. "It's sugar, spice, vanilla-" she waved a hand, thinking. "-molasses, and-"

"Rum?"

"I don't know," she sighed. “Maybe. It's such an old recipe. I have Rikku make it." She watched his tense body with confused eyes as his brows furrowed, fists tightening at his sides.

_What does it matter if its rum?_ Her lips tightened. _I can barely taste it._

"I-I'm done-" he muttered, voice shaky. His face was grave as he rose from the table, and walked out of the kitchen.

She watched his back as he left, arms crossing tightly. "Well, I was going to give you today off, anyway..."

Rikku floated toward her, large face on his small body appearing to be frowning.

She shook her head. "It wasn't you, cutey-pie. All men that ugly are grumpy, they can't help it." _Be nice, they said._

~*~

Perona sat on the greased wood floor of the second-level grand hall. It was a large room filled with mirrors and plants, gold trimmings lining painted walls. The windows were framed with thick purple curtains, tied with rope to let in blue-gray light as the day passed. Evening approached.

Her legs were spread open as she stretched her arms over her head, forming a bow with two hands. "Fifth," she whispered, staring at her reflection. And then she began again, arms curved in toward her waist. _First._ She elongated her back, tilting her chin upward. _Second._ She curved an arm inward, keeping the other straight. _Third._

Rikku watched her with a few other ghosts, ready to applaud when she was done. It also played a soft slow song on the piano, one to lift her mood.

"This doesn't feel cute," she muttered, shifting her eyes from her purple leotard and gray printed sarong down to her pink ballet shoes. "There's no point in wearing shoes."

"That's pessimistic, even for you," his deep voice answered.

She said nothing, watching him cross the room in the mirror-lined wall. His outfit was different from before. He wore smooth harem pants that cuffed at the ankle, and a more fitted white top, a light material. His skin had some more color, which meant he'd either taken a nap or eaten or... her brain fried, _whatever his dumb self does, ugh._

"What are you doing here?" Perona folded her arms, staying where she sat. "I was going to give you the day off."

Zoro shook his head, stopping a meter from her. "Can't."

"Why not?"

"You're training me, right?"

"I guess..." she let the words drag. The conversation felt weird as her back was to him, but she still looked him in his eye. "Aren't you tired? You slept longer than me."

He smirked. "You checking up on me?"

"Only to make sure you leave me alone." Her cheeks tinted, lips poked out. 

Zoro rubbed his head awkwardly, hair still drying from his cold shower. "This week is..."

"Weird." She looked down at the space between her legs, deciding to resume positions. His body came closer, and then he took a place on the floor beside her, inching back to fully stretch his legs.

"Yeah." 

There was silence as she raised both arms to the ceiling again. 

"Fourth?"

"Fifth," she said, stretching her spine. "Now first."

He jogged his memory, following her motions with less grace.

"You catch on to these things," she said quietly, curving her arms inward. "For someone so brutish and unrefined."

Her eye lingered on him, waiting for him to grumble about the insult.

"Whatever." He did.

The piano played a soft tune like swans paddling over a lake as he followed her motions, planning his evening workout in his head. _Fifty more sets. No, sixty and a run._ Their fingers touched as he stretched too far in the second position, prompting him to pull his hand back. 

She raised a brow, lowering her arms gently, and tapped her fingers on the floor. The music quieted.

He shot her the same confused look.

"You can't say you're not being weird today, it's ugly-weird... not usual weird. Just explain it." She adjusted a strand of hair awkwardly as he looked at her in the mirror. The long braid from earlier was rolled into a bun, like a pink dessert, and secured with pink chopsticks. 

Zoro said nothing, feeling the silence eat at him as a pair of ghosts chased each other along the back of the room, flying through the piano. Rikku’s face twisted, waving flailing hands as they interrupted its song.

"Do you miss Mihawk?"

The question caught him off guard, making him shift his eyes to her. There'd be no right answer to that. He shook his head, watching the ghosts again.

"Was my porridge bad?" 

He hesitated. "No."

"I can make it sweeter.” She pouted.

"No!" he insisted, then feeling awkward as his voice echoed. The ghosts paused their dance. "I mean it's... sweet enough." Any sweeter and he'd get cavities. The ghosts continued twirling around. He finally looked away, feeling dizzy.

Her eyes narrowed. "You almost spit it out."

Zoro tightened, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "My bad about that."

"What's wrong with rum?"

He didn't answer.

"Did I do something to make you mad?"

He felt discomfort in his chest, folding his legs to lean a hand against his knees.

"Zoro!"

He coughed, negative in his stomach. "I-I should die." Then he stuttered over, glaring at her. "Knock it off!"

She turned around toward him but winced as her torso twisted, legs dragged forward. “Don’t ignore me!”

His eyes softened, intensity lowering as he shifted focus to her feet. He knew what moving that way cost her. "Let me see." 

"Now you want to talk?" She crossed her arms. 

They stared at each other for a few moments, the room suddenly glowing dark red with the sunset. It touched his face and set a halo around her head.

Zoro sighed and took a deep breath, chest growing then deflating. Silent treatment would get him nowhere, and he should have learned his lesson after they'd avoided each other before. _But.. where do I begin..._ He turned toward her fully, and she did the same, staring at his slumped thinking shoulders. 

"You've been weird since kissing me," she said in a straight-forward way that made him swallow the saliva in his throat. _Okay... then._

"It's not you-" he started. Perona's jaw dropped. "No, I don't mean it like that, ugh, fuck!" A headache started to return that hadn't gone away with jogging around the island or eating fruit. "The kiss isn't the issue."

She still seemed unsatisfied.

"It wasn't... bad." The words made him tug his shirt, letting in the breeze from the window as she smirked. "For someone who's so bad at asking for help... and obsessed with pink."

Perona glared and lifted a ghostly hand as he chuckled, raising two hands in defense. She didn't send a negative hollow as he continued, "I don't know why I'm so tired. We're just cooking and..."

"Kissing."

His neck grew hot. "Er, and this dumb dancing..."

" _This_ ," she said sharply, throwing a hand dramatically over her head. "This is ballet. When we hold hands, that's a waltz. They're both types of-"

"Dances. Dancing." He waved a hand. "My point is that it shouldn't be so tiring."

Perona now snickered as he slid closer to her, motioning for her leg. This time she complied, waving a finger. Her legs rose slowly and landed over his lap as he caught her ankles gently in his hands. Her voice had a hint of amusement. "This is exercise. You have to factor that in. Just because it's not machismo and ugly, that doesn't mean you shouldn't take it seriously."

Zoro grumbled under his breath, considering the words. Careful movement for hours was basically the same as his isometric holds or... _I guess, alright._

"Hm?"

"Nothing..." He turned her foot in his hand, earning a wince, then making his touch more gentle as he unlaced her ballet flat and set it aside. "I get it. I should have weighed it all equally, then I wouldn't feel like garbage."

"And since you sleep so much, you'd think you'll super-heal like an idiot. You have to eat more, too." She rolled her eyes as he ignored the word _idiot,_ touching his fingers along the bones of her foot. Then he paused.

"I don't sleep that much."

Perona hummed. "Rikku said you took a nap today. That’s two less than yesterday.”

His cheeks heated again, shooting a glare at the ghost by the piano. It didn't meet his look, playing with its head turned around to the wall like an owl.

"It's hard to stay asleep," he muttered, massaging her ankle in a pause, "without drinking."

She looked at him with a head tilted to the side, humming. "I don't drink before bed, and I sleep okay. Aren't you used to it now?"

Zoro clenched his jaw. "It's not... the same, I had sake all the time, every day, for years." He released her foot, tightening his fist in the air. "It's... like..." He felt stupid for even trying to explain the feeling, and even moreso as her expression grew more blank. "Walking around without a limb."

Her hands tightened in her lap, and she looked down. He knew he had struck a chord, and carefully continued his words, "Like it's supposed to be there, but isn't."

"You can get around," she whispered, looking up at him under her bangs.

"Don't think of it that way." He slid closer, enough for her to feel his body heat. "All this time, I _drank_ so much that liquor felt like a part of me. I can drink if I'm tired. I can drink to fall asleep. I can drink to eat-" he hesitated, forcing his mind to think away from the possibility. "-except, I can't." He shook his head, eyes drifting. "I have to master haki."

She placed a hand on his cheek and patted it lightly as he slowed his words.

"If I have it I can't get stronger."

"Hasn't it been months without wine?"

The sentence made his gut twist, hating the reality. "It's not just wine. You can't cook with anything alcohol."

"Not even a taste," she whispered in thought.

_"No."_ He raised his eyes, coming up with an analogy, putting a burning hand over hers. "Could you be satisfied with being fed bits of your power at a time?"

Her eyes widened. "No. I'd want it all. I'd be missing it-" She paused. _That's..._ she couldn't bring herself to say the word _sad,_ knowing how much she didn't want his pity before and how such a look could crush someone.

The piano had stopped. 

"You'd be thinking about it all the time because it's _supposed_ to be there, so you can't even have a little bit."

Zoro looked relieved, letting a sigh out. Then he sighed deeper, closing his eyes. "Yes." His shoulders lowered, her hands still pressed to his cheeks.

Perona scrolled his face for expression, and then he suddenly laughed. "It sounds fucking silly to hear it." He grinned again as she pulled his face forward until it rested in her shoulder. _I'm so fucking silly._

She patted a hand over his soft head. “I understand."

He bit his lip hard, mind playing over the phrase as she repeated it, not knowing until now how much he needed to hear it.

~*~

The following afternoon, Perona sat on the counter, watching Zoro chop potatoes and carrots. She groaned for the third time in a row, this time donning a dark red romper over a pink and white striped long sleeve shirt. Her hair was tied in two curly pig-tails, a small chef's hat on top.

"Is it ready yet?" She pouted.

Zoro rolled his eyes, an apron on in place of a shirt. He pointed a large spoon at her. "It's your fault I have to cook lunch now, too. Who knows what you or your ghosts might slip into it."

She gaped, stuttering, "W-what! I wouldn't!-" and then glared as he started snickering. "You're messing with me!"

Zoro laughed, dodging around the kitchen with the bowl of vegetables as two small ghosts circled around him, then heaving when one intersected his mid-section. "P-please f-forgive me."

"Horohoro." Perona laughed and crossed her arms. "Serves you right."

"Evil ghost girl," he muttered, looking up from his hair, part of it slumped across his eyes. Then he brushed a hand through it, pushing it back again to show his forehead. "Shouldn't take too long, anyway."

She smiled, swinging her legs back and forth as he poured chopped beef and the vegetables into a pot before setting a flame. There were other random ingredients thrown in as well, for Mihawk's sake. The vampiric man would likely turn to dust at the sight of a _normal_ meal being served in his castle.

"Can't have that," Zoro muttered, "I need to get stronger." When she raised a brow, he shook his head. He gave the pot one last look over and then placed the lid on top, hoping that it comes out edible.

"Now." Zoro brushed his hands off, placing them at his waist.

"Now?" Perona raised an eyebrow, growing uncomfortable as his smirk rose.

"Play something."

"Play?" She shook her head, ridding herself of the _stupid,_ and shot Rikku a look. The ghost floated up from its position behind the breakfast table, making Zoro flinch. Rikku left through the window, leaving Zoro's path of sight as it sat by the nearest piano on the courtyard. 

"Will that... ghost play?" he asked.

Perona nodded, floating from her seat toward Zoro. She had a mischievous smile on her face as she approached, watching his hot-faced demeanor. "You want to dance."

"It's an _exercise_ like you said," he muttered, turning his nose up. He glared at her and extended a hand. "And we didn't finish yesterday. I can't eat _two_ meals a day and not work it off, I’ll get out of shape.” There was a pause before a dark song played, a sound akin to two ravens chasing each other in circles that sent a shiver up his spine.

She accepted his left hand with her right and lowered to where he could place his other hand on her back. Then the distance closed slowly, their faces growing closer. "How does it go again?" his voice whispered against her skin.

"You learn fast, so remember," she said, taking a bite at his lip casually.

He chuckled, feeling her pull and bite down gently before letting him go. "I want to try something."

"You want to follow? You're not borrowing my pretty dresses."

Zoro rolled his eyes. "No, just-" then he sighed. "You got me. All I wanted was to finally try on pink." 

She blinked.

"No! You idiot!" He released her hand to tap two fingers at her forehead, earning a gasp of shock. "You float with your devil fruit power, right?" She nodded with a pout, breaking from the hold to rub her head, the other hand at her hips. "How do you move your feet?

Perona looked surprised, twisting her mouth to the side. "Well... I don't usually tell my secrets to enemies."

"Hurry up." He tapped a foot.

"It's ghosts," she sighs. 

Zoro swallowed, forcing himself to bury the thought of how creepy that is. Thankfully, the window let in a breeze that kept the room from being _too_ quiet, save for the piano outside. "You put ghosts in your feet?"

Perona chuckled. "Yes."

This time, Zoro had to take a step back as she burst out laughing. "I can give my body properties of a ghost, like floating. So I can float-" she rose up in the air "-and move my legs." She rocked back and forth stiffly. 

_Ah_ , he nodded. "Can you turn it down?"

She froze.

"Like _lessen_ the power."

"Did you hit your head and forget why I _have_ to float in the first place?"

Zoro rolled his eyes, a thought glazing over that the night as he extended his hand again. "I remember, but I'm thinking if you turn it down-just-" His brain felt like an oven cooking, or maybe that was the smell of the pot simmering. "Come here."

Perona swallowed but took his hand and lowered to his eyes. 

"Now... use less of your power."

She lowered an inch.

"More."

Another inch.

"Again."

Her eye was at his lip-level. "Are you done with this stupidness?"

He hardened his eyes to show he was serious. She sighed, lowering her body again, inch by inch. His hand wrapped her waist as she closed her eyes, hands clutching his arms. 

"A little more," he whispered, and then hissed, "stop."

Perona peeked an eye open, an odd sensation at her feet. "I’m...?”

"Standing," he said, looking down with a careful eye, and then meeting her wide-eyed expression. "I once came across a woman with a devil fruit power that could make herself heavy or lighter. Was a bitch to fight."

She hummed. "Kilo kilo?"

He raised a brow, odd as the memory resurfaced years ago. “Yeah, think so."

"Moria," she paused, getting a faraway look in her eye at his chest, "-sama. He researched different fruits that could help me get around my condition."

Zoro nodded, placing a hand under her chin so that she'd look up. "I'm thinking you can slowly get used to working those muscles." He narrowed his eyes as she started to beam. _"But,_ it would be hard and take time... and I'm not a doctor..."

She sighed, the familiar ache at her legs returning. She opted to float into his hold instead, his hand dropping back to her waist. "No one can guarantee anything." 

Her sentiment relieved him, but he could still see the twinkle in her eye that things could improve. _Good_ , he smiled, _f_ _ight it._

"I've been working on this," she began to speak again. She snapped her fingers and the glass doors opened, allowing the sound to enter louder. "It's not complete, but-" A word entered her mind as she snapped her fingers twice. _Levitate._

Zoro's eyes widened, suddenly grasping her closer for balance. He was floating? No, that wasn't right. He looked down, clenching his toes in his boots. The _shoes_ were floating. "Damn, when did you learn this... it’s creepy.”

She disregarded his tone. "I can't exactly move other people, but Mihawk-sama figured small things I might..."

He tried his best to stand up straight, floating a foot in the air. His stomach felt light, and it showed in his face. She snapped a finger again, and the buoyant feeling in the pit of his gut disappeared.

"More ghost shit?"

"Geez, make it sound cuter than that." She rolled her eyes, wincing slightly as the energy left. He pulled closer as he got the hang of standing on... his own shoes. Then he clasped his hand to hers and took a step forward, sort of swaying with her.

"This is silly." She laughed awkwardly. "I thought this would be smoother."

"No, we won't fail," he grumbled, closing his eyes to listen to the counts of the music. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. He moved his feet forward, imagining he was on solid ground, which was easier without the _feeling_ of rising in the air. She responded to his hold, moving with him, twice as graceful as he. "God, this is-"

"Working!" She laughed for real this time, turning with him. He peeked an eye open to see her spin in his arms with a carefree expression, giggling as the music played in their ears.

_Luffy laughed, pulling Zoro into a spin. "Come on, dance, Zoro!" He groaned, head still heavy even after puking over the side of the ship twice in one night. 'And you still want to fool around?' he thought in agony as the captain spun with him, making the world move into oblivion. "Zoro!" He listened to the captain's shouts, then began to laugh with Luffy. Perhaps he was drunken, but he fell into a wave-like pace with him, arms wrapped around Luffy's trim shoulders, their foreheads touching as he grew so happily tired._

Zoro sighed, slowing his steps with the music. He closed his eyes again so that they wouldn't tear up from the wind greeting around them. How many. How many sober moments like this had he missed?

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd adore some feedback on how I'm approaching their various issues like-the drinking. I want to be realistic without glorifying.


	7. (E) Hawk-Eye Rendezvous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mihawk meets his lover.
> 
> Explicit content, anal sex

The Red Force was a ship as big as the Thousand Sunny, albeit not as great. Its head was a red sea bull, and its flag a skull with a red stripe stretching along its right eye. The outer deck was concave, with stairs leading to the front of the ship to steer the wheel. Back stairs led to a space with tropical trees to grow fruit for alcohol and rum. Being a red hair pirate was synonymous with drinking, and if the members wanted to have a happy journey, they would allow Shanks to stay tipsy.

At the center of the ship, there was a circular nest that connected all three floors. Mihawk stood next to it, staring at the waves in front of him with a stern eye, watching the odd colors of the New World. He wasn't keeping track of where they had traveled on the deck of the ship, but something green and pink about the sky unsettled him for being midday.

“I'm forgetting something,” Mihawk muttered, sea breeze against his bare chest because he certainly didn't travel wearing a shirt. Shanks was grateful for that.

“You, forgetting? Is that even possible?” his lover murmured in his ear, chest pressed against Mihawk's back as he leaned a head on his shoulder, equally half a foot over six feet.

As Mihawk stared, entranced by the sky, Shanks took the opportunity to place a kiss on the pale swordsman's shoulder, caring not for the crew that moved around him.

“It's been months, at least look happy to see me, honey-hawk.”

Mihawk shook his thoughts and turned around, embracing the freshly showered man. “You're right, I am glad to see you well. Especially after that ridiculous and pompous display.” Marineford. It was the reason they had to be cautious before seeing one another again. “And do not call me honey-hawk.”

Shanks smelled of pine and rum, which Mihawk decided that he liked and leaned in to kiss him on the lips.

The crew might have paused or glanced over at that moment, particularly the younger members, surprised by the pride of the older men, but Mihawk held the kiss, placing a hand against the red blush.

“Shanks,” a voice said, and the red-haired man broke away from the kiss, clearing his throat to break the tension and calm his body. He took a step back and looked to his first mate, Benn Beckman, the only man brave enough to interrupt such a display. Benn was three inches taller than Shanks but stood shorter with his relaxed posture. 

Shanks straightened and placed his one hand on Benn's shoulder, making Mihawk's eye twitch in annoyance. By listening to the quiet sharp accent of the man, they gathered that the Navy had been spotted, but the crew bickered confused over _who_ had spotted it. Bragging rights were important. 

“I wasn't followed,” Mihawk said in his stern tone, lowering his brows.

Shanks sighed. “Love, it's not you. They're probably lieutenant scouts, we've been in this area for some time.” He then smirked, making his three scars crease. “Unlucky for them.”

The words left a dark pause in the air, and the veterans all glanced over and then laughed.

"Unlucky, indeed." Benn stared over the horizon as Shanks released his hand from his shoulder.

With a swift step, Shanks turned to Mihawk and whispered in his ear, “Let's talk inside.” There was an insinuation that lingered as his lips brushed his cheek.

Mihawk frowned, glaring in the general direction that the crew looked. There was only the shape of a ship visible through his human eyes, but it could have been a mountain or ghost cloud. A marine paddleboat could easily catch up to the Red Force while they drifted, and it only needed one dendenmushi to contact higher powers.

“I'll cut them, let me handle it.”

“My crew will handle it,” Shanks said, picking up the sheathed sword Yoru from the deck, tying it awkwardly over his shoulder before extending his hand.

Mihawk darted his eyes to him before accepting his hand. _I don't care if we're seen by the navy._

Shanks smiled back, squeezing his palm. _Well, I do. It'd be your problem, not just mine._

Yasopp cleared his throat, rubbing his head of golden dreadlocks awkwardly with one hand and holding a telescope with the other. “Uh, captain, we're just going to prepare cannons anyway, it'll be a good test for the newbies,” he said in a raspy voice, staring between the two men, unable to decipher their mental conversation.

 _Alright, fine._ Mihawk rolled his eyes, pulling Shanks toward the door to the lower cabins.

Shanks nodded to Yasopp and Benn, and they relaxed as he chuckled to himself and followed Mihawk down into the galley.

Benn understood his captain’s look. _“Take care of the situation swiftly. I don’t care how.”_

Yasopp sighed dramatically. “I swear hawk-guy never gets less scary.”

Benn shrugged in response, crossing his arms. There was a lazy stance about him with a small smile as he looked over the horizon again, still unable to make out the Navy ship. “He’s what our captain wants.”

“Well, the _lady_ of the ship was always a cold one,” Yasopp hissed with a wide grin and a wink, attempting to force a reaction.

Benn rolled his eyes, refusing to participate in the nervous laughs of the crew on standby. “You just don't value your life after all these years. Make sure that coffin's concealed.”

“Yeah, yeah, so the marines don’t catch on. Big public scandal.”

Benn cut his eyes. “Hawk-Eye also can’t put you in a coffin that isn’t available. You know, I think it has your name on it.”

Yasopp opened his mouth, then thought not to, accepting the dry response with a gulp as he pivoted on his heels. ... it was around when their relationship started that the hawk-eye started sailing on that creepy thing. Yasopp knew that Mihawk was there to stay. His eyes didn’t miss the way Shanks picked up the world's greatest swordman's _literal sword_. It made him shiver to think someone so ruthless might be an unofficial member of their family.

“Ugh, let’s just prepare.” _  
_

Yasopp's hands clapping sharply broke the harmony of the deck, not stirring Lucky from a nap, though, fat bastard never got up. The younger members looked startled by the sudden serious look he donned.

“Alright, ya yellow bellies, when that ship arrives, I want all of you to hit _at least_ one hole in it. That means you, you, and _you, monkey._ ” 

The three youngest members stood straight, gulping, and then got to work. Benn could never quite remember how Shanks had convinced primates to join the crew.

Rockstar, a man with backcombed ruby hair, chuckled from his place on the front of the deck as the three scrambled around, yelled at by Yasopp. He sat by the steering wheel, sitting against the wooden beams of the ship to polish his sword. Benn sighed, looking at him with a tired smile. Their eyes stayed for a moment. He smiled back.

~*~

The interior of the Red Force was one of the most impractical ships that Mihawk had ever had the displeasure of walking through. For one, there were too many rooms. A dining room, a kitchen, a room with a few books, a room with only one fishbowl, closets filled with collected items, _rooms_. More alarming, the makeshift blueprint didn't bother the crew whatsoever, and they respected each space accordingly or had fights according to who didn't. Mihawk noticed that the majority of them socialized on the deck, while a few were designated to specific tasks like brewing alcohol or cleaning, thank _God_. 

Mihawk could go on, but he was too dizzy to argue as Shanks lead him through the curved hallway. One of the three musketeers assigned to canon duty squeezed past them, carrying a bucket of oil. The only landmark was an _inconvenient_ cylindrical stack of rooms that was placed smack in the middle of the ship. Whoever had been the architect seemed to focus on that space and build everything else around it as an oh-shit moment.

"Shanks..." Mihawk grumbled.

"You can hate my ship later," Shanks said with an eye roll. "My room is right here."

Shanks let go of his hand to push the door open, revealing the captain's quarters. It was usually in shambles, scraps of papers and empty bottles thrown amuck, but not this time. Mihawk's heart began at a quick pace, pushing past Shanks into the bright space. The room sat below the red sea bull's head, so it was more spacious than the others. And now, _clean._

"...you changed things," Mihawk whispered, eyes wide as he looked around.

There was a bed pushed to the corner, large enough for the two of them. The sheets were dark and smooth as Mihawk paced forward and ran a hand against them. An odd feeling waded through him, making clear the time that had passed. So many months with them unable to see each other. Two lives they both had well-chosen, but... at a moment like that, it stung in his chest.

"You don't look happy."

Mihawk didn't respond, walking to the desk. At the wall above it, he stared straight at the collection of wanted posters depicting a young man very excited to be sought after _dead or alive._ 30 million. 100 million. 400 million. Strawhat Luffy. The bane of that foolish green-haired boy. His eyes drifted down to the messy pile of papers laid out next to an ink container and quill.

"Ah-shit." Shanks set down Yoru and his own sword belt then closed their distance. He winced for the verbal attack he had yet to receive. "I forgot to clean this, I'll-" His hand was smacked.

"Y-you." Air in the room grew thin as Mihawk pushed his hand away, eyes scrolling through the drafted letters not yet sent to him. The crossed-out lines and scribbles of practiced words. Shanks looked away, embarrassed, unsure of how to respond in the silence.

Shouts in the distance one floor up didn't stir either of them.

_Hey honey-hawk. Did those kids figure their shit out yet? Not that this is the juiciest gossip I'm getting out here or anything.  
_

Another letter.

_Thinking of you, babe. Fuck, I shouldn't have said that. Sorry, you hate it when I swear. Fuck. I'll stop writing for now. I'm not good at this. La la la._

The rest was crossed out.

A sigh over his shoulder. "It's stupid, I'll throw it out." Shanks snatched at the edge of the parchment, but it didn't budge. "Hawk?" He looked down, and a few of the words blurred. More drops of liquid touched them, melting the ink into the paper as Mihawk covered his mouth with a hand.

Shanks swore under his breath, grabbing his shoulders. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

"N-no," his voice escaped heavy as the tears flowed from his eyes, running over his hand. 

Unable to respond, Shanks yanked him close and kissed his forehead, warm hand at the back of his neck. It was once two hands. Two arms. Mihawk hugged his waist, smelling the pine scent of his skin under his stubble. 

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" Shanks nuzzled his hair, caution in his voice.

"Being so accommodating, this isn't like you. You're not this way." Mihawk couldn't stop the sobs, feeling his frustration escape as his voice grew louder. "You're not a conscientious man, you're an asshole. We've been together for eight years and you never once tried to write neatly for me. You've never bothered to-" he looked up and froze searching Shanks's grave expression.

Shanks swallowed first, feeling his own body tremor. "I'm sorry."

"Why?" _Something's wrong._

In the silence, Mihawk shoved him. He held on.

"Why!?" his voice grew louder. _Something's wrong._

"Because," Shanks hissed, clutching tightly at Mihawk's black duster. "I don't know how much longer we have."

The wide-eyed look that met him was confused, scared, angry, _pissed._

"Why would you say that? What in the hell aren't you telling me?" _Tell me!_

"Nothing!" Shanks groaned, breaking from their contact to cross the room, taking off his boots. "Or... everything. You were there, Dracule." The use of his first name made him stiffen as Shanks sat on the bed, leaning forward on an elbow, running a hand through his hair. "The war, it's not over. Things are shifting. Luffy..." he whispered. "He's shaking things. It's... bad. It's good but bad."

For the first time in so long, Mihawk remembered what being tired to his bones looked like on his beau. Shanks had been fixing - or trying to - every mess created by Whitebeard's death in so little time while also keeping himself alive. The tension in the way the crew moved quietly and danced around Shank’s mood in the few hours since their rendezvous said it all. Red-hair pirates didn't just see Dracule Mihawk as the lover of their captain, but a _danger_ to him. 

"What did you see?" Mihawk asked in a hurried voice, sitting on the bed next to him.

Shanks opened his mouth to speak, words caught in his throat, eyes glossing. "Massacre across the sea. Families, villages, pointless violence over _territory,"_ he growled, straightening his posture as Mihawk rubbed a hand on his back. "And it's not over, more people are going to die."

"Only the strong can survive," Mihawk whispered, "You've always known this."

He shook his head, looking at him with dark eyes. "Children don't have a chance to be strong yet. That's why- that's why-" his breath grew heavy, grabbing a hand over his arm where it used to be. "I have to do something about it. I didn't just give it away, I gave it to him. To the future."

Mihawk couldn't respond.

"We're not invincible, you and I..." Shanks finally exhaled, releasing tension in his shoulders under Mihawk's hand. "Have I told you I love you?" he asked in a shaky voice, taking Mihawk's hand to stop the motion. "Because I do. I'm still considered an emperor and if I don't settle these disputes..." 

Mihawk understood. _If you don't act like an emperor, someone else will._ Marineford made that clear to the world that no man was invincible, not even the immovable great whale, Whitebeard. The other emperors were bastards who sought to take power, not bring balance or enact any semblance of true peace. Shanks couldn't fix that alone. Mihawk wished he was more selfish, to simply come live with him at his castle and forget the world, but Shanks wanted the weak to be happy. 

"You want to fix it," Mihawk said, leaning a head on his shoulder, his tears dry.

"We're not young anymore."

"No." He agreed, squeezing his hand. "We are not, but we are _powerful._ I will gladly come to your aid if you find yourself against the wall." His eyes grew intense. "I will not let the man I cherish die."

Shanks looked forward, taking in the heavy words with a chuckle. "I hope you never have to."

"However." He turned to look at Mihawk's eyes under his tilted forehead. "If you are defeated, or come back to me with an _additional_ limb missing, then I will eliminate you myself."

There was a moment of pause, and then Shanks laughed out, his voice echoing against the ceiling as Mihawk smiled that cruel smile. 

"Oh, honey-hawk." Shanks sighed, finally lowering his shoulders fully. "You will never let up about that. Just try it, believing in the future."

Mihawk followed his eyes to the wall where the smiling face of the future beamed, a green tint of light from the window shining over it. Had he started to train his own future? The thought left.

A large exhale came from Shanks, and he wiped his eyes, stirring Mihawk from his comfortable lean on his shoulder. He stood up and crossed the room to shove his desk papers into a drawer. An excellent choice.

"Geesh, we really killed the mood, honey. I had hoped you'd see the silk sheets and strip immediately." Shanks smiled sheepishly, reaching out of Mihawk's view to pick up a tall dark bottle. "I got some wine and everything."

Mihawk crossed his arms. "Fool. You should have started with that, I wouldn't have noticed anything else."

Shanks blinked, surprised at the truth of the statement, then he laughed. He crossed the room to stand in front of the bed, twisting the tight cork off the bottle with two fingers, then drinking down a gulp of the fruity spirit. He _hmm'd_ , licking his lips as eager hands pried the bottle away from him. 

"Careful, it’s strong. Do you want me to light some candles, too?"

Mihawk eyed him quizzically and then tasted the wine, face lighting up with a pleasant expression. "It's delicious. Excellent potency." He drank down more, eyes half-closed in a moan.

"Slow down, babe. And I'm the drunk?"

"Yes." Mihawk licked his lips. "The answer is yes."

"To me being a drunk or the candles?"

The bottle tilted upward again, his golden glare and smile cut off.

"Both."

Shanks chuckled, crossing the room to place a line of medium-sized black and red candles on his desk and light them with a match. He did the same with his bedside stand and then closed the black curtains on the small circular windows. The daylight in the room was replaced by dim candlelight.

Shanks adjusted to the dark, turning back to Mihawk slowly, brows raised at his dark figure leaned back on the bed without his pointed-toe ankle boots. He wore only black pants, his jacket was placed over a crate next to the bed. Mihawk rubbed a hand over his groin, watching Shanks with narrowed eyes. A rise in his own pants prompted Shanks to swallow, thanking the devil for how quickly he could regain the mood. 

"Y-you didn't drink all of it, did you?" he asked cautiously, unfastening his pants and stepping out of them before he approached the bed.

"Hmmm." Mihawk rolled onto his back, holding the bottle out to him with the other arm. "No, it's just been a while. I want this."

The words made Shanks smile, taking the wine from his hand to swallow a long gulp before he plugged in the cork and pushed it onto the nightstand. Mihawk sat up, making room for Shanks to climb into the bed, tangle their limbs, and kiss him passionately.

"Good," Shanks whispered, lowering his body over him, one arm perched under his shoulder blade. "So do I."

Mihawk wrapped his legs around Shanks's hips, opening contact for their lower halves to grind as they sucked on each other's lips. His hands were busy rubbing up Shanks’s back as Shanks licked his mouth for entry, and then they were tasting the sweet wine on one another's tongues. A deep moan escaped Mihawk as Shanks thrust his hips hard, frustrated by the fabric separating them, stirring heat in his stomach.

Perhaps, it was the wine, but it was also the pent-up desire that he'd had to suppress for so long. His own devices couldn't generate the alcohol in Shanks's breath or the rum on his skin, even if the room smelled like the spicy scent of his castle.

"Pants-" Mihawk leaned his head back in a sigh, taking in licks and bites as Shanks moved to his neck and sucked gingerly—hah, ginger, like his hair. Mihawk laughed, bubbly from the wine as Shanks bit deeper, then releasing a whine instead—hah, whine, like wine.

Shanks ceased his assault and grinned at the giggling pale man beneath him, knowing that he was tipsy, but moreso surprised at how quickly it happened. In his own blood, he could feel the high-proof wine working, but his body was used to beatings from rum. That stern and uptight man now moaned with his mouth closed as Shanks looked down with hungry eyes.

"My pants," he said again, placing a hand over the cruel fabric that prevented his erection from rising to its full beauty. The candles flickered a warm light over his skin as he waited for a response, no, a follow to his _demand._

Shanks smirked, leaving the pants where they were. He instead continued to lick and bite down Mihawk's chest, leaving pink marks as a trail. Mihawk moaned and moved his hips against Shanks's chest for contact. Shanks held his hips down with one hand, working slowly from his abs, which he gladly took a bite out of, and then to the cut-crease of his pelvis, biting down.

Mihawk hissed at the sharp feeling of teeth on his hip, sighing once apologetic licks were placed over it. He felt some of his faculties return, maybe his body realizing he drank wine with every meal and shouldn't be processing it like some virgin, but he still felt so _good_ in the dim room. It was a ship, but it felt like home in the bed. 

"Shanks," Mihawk said in a breathy voice as a demand and question. "Top or bottom?"

The question gave Shanks pause, sitting back on his heels. He had just bathed, he had no problem allowing his vampire the satisfaction of virtually tearing his ass up, but at the same time... Mihawk looked delicious below him, skin glistening against the flames dancing around the room, the silk sheets sensitive against his skin, smelling so good, eyes glossy. _Fuck, when you ask like that-_

"Top?" Mihawk insinuated in a way with his eyes that forced Shanks to nod stupidly, unbuttoning his shirt like an idiot, thinking with his other brain first.

Mihawk's lips curved slightly, satisfied with the response. The glint in his eyes said he needed it. Shanks made quick work of his clothes for a man with one hand, and threw both his shirt and underwear to the floor in seconds, smiling as Mihawk waited for him to pull the tie on his pants and loosen the band.

Mihawk sighed as his body was set free. Those were the lace-up pants that made his ass look particularly great, but at the cost of comfort. Shanks's jaw dropped as he smiled widely with an evil laugh.  
  
“What's wrong? Changing your mind?" taunted Mihawk.

”N-no, wow.”

 _Shit-you want it this bad._ Shanks swallowed his thoughts, running his hand over the silky lace thong that separated him from Mihawk's fully hard flesh. No more games, he'd give the man what he wanted without delay.

Shanks grabbed Mihawk's hips in a sudden motion, sloppy with the support of only one arm, but Mihawk moaned in his mouth, understanding his intentions. He settled into sitting on Shanks's lap, legs folded around his waist as they tongue-kissed. His back arched, feeling Shanks snatch the band of the lace and let it smack against him, then running his hand up to his spine with a hot hand.

Mihawk sucked on Shanks's bottom lip, following the moan down to his neck where he kissed at the bend in his adam's apple, earning a positive sound. His hands explored Shanks's bare chest and shoulders, squeezing over each area he could reach to ensure every inch of him was touched.

"Honey..." Shanks dropped his jaw, sucking in his stomach as Mihawk's hand lowered into the abyss of space at their groins, taking hold of Shanks in one motion, starting a slow stroke. Shanks shuddered before he reciprocated, using his hand to rub and squeeze over the silk before reaching inside to rub Mihawk’s tip tenderly. 

Their moans connected, Mihawk wrapping his free arm around Shanks's shoulder to pull them closer. He dropped his jaw, eyes flickering as Shanks took the full length in his palm and pumped him faster.

"W-wait," he stuttered out, and Shanks complied, slowing his contact to a stroke so slow and deep that he rolled his eyes. "Fuck."

Shanks's grinned. "Did you just curse?"

"Yes." Mihawk released his hold on Shanks and untangled their bodies, dancing them into a position where he could push Shanks down with both hands, allowing him to rest his head on the pillow. 

Shanks looked shocked at the glossy look in his eyes as his man whispered again, "Fuck me." His throat bobbed as he sat up in a hurry and reached under his pillow feverishly, face relieved as he pulled out a bottle of lube and a rubber, using his teeth to unwrap it.

Mihawk looked at the thick-ribbed edges on the sides and bit his lip. His erection twitched in response as Shanks secured it with a smile.

"Get ready, honey."

This time, Mihawk complied without qualm, taking the lubricant in his fingers and kneeling on his knees over Shanks to rub it along his crack, flinching at the cool temperature of the gel. Shanks motioned him closer, and he rested his arms around Shanks's shoulders. Shanks rubbed lube around his hole with his fingers, softening the skin. Mihawk shuddered over him, leaning his forehead into his neck to hide his face as a finger entered, probing in circles.

"Now." Mihawk glanced up at him, forehead glistening. Shanks pushed in another finger and swirled it around slowly, a concentrated look on his face.

"Almost," he whispered, closing his eyes to feel for how loosened Mihawk was. As much as he wanted to flip him over and make him beg, he wanted it to feel good. Mihawk sighed and closed his eyes, allowing Shanks to massage him further. There might have been sounds of scurrying or creaks of the ship, but they fell on deaf lustful ears.

When Mihawk rose himself over Shanks's hard _ribbed_ dick, his entire body felt stimulated as it ached with anticipation to finally get to the itch he couldn't scratch. He gasped, he couldn't help it, as Shanks bent his knees at the correct angle, guiding him into a deep first entry.

Shanks's mouth fell open, Mihawk's hot insides melting tight around him.

"Oh..." Mihawk sighed, taking in the full feeling of him, accompanied by small edges itching up the sides. “...God.”

They locked eyes for a moment before Mihawk started to move slowly until the thrusts were familiar, each of their heavy breaths connecting. Shanks rubbed a hand over his chest, teasing the sensitized skin of his nipples. Mihawk twitched at the contact and then moaned in appreciation for Shanks's wonderful length able to brush his prostate.

"H-honey..." Shanks's voice fell dry as Mihawk rose enough for Shanks to nearly pull out before grinding back down, the two of their voices connecting.

"Shanks," he whispered back desperately, "Shanks. Shanks. _Shanks."_ He could say little else, riding him at a healthy pace, beginning to shake from the pleasure. 

Shanks moaned in response, a hand at Mihawk's waist to pull him down harder with each thrust.

The shouts were getting louder outside, and there was the sound of a canon.

Mihawk took most of his weight off of Shanks as he sat upright, hands pressed to Shanks's stomach. Then he shifted his angle, sitting back _right_ onto Shanks’s dick, leaning against his knees.

 _"Shanks,"_ Mihawk moaned as he continued the thrust into himself, eyes squinted to the ceiling.

Shanks groaned louder, desperate for more control.

"Hawk," he hissed in a voice that gave his intentions.

Mihawk nearly whimpered as he came down from his short-lived high, his dick painfully hard against the air.

It took some maneuvering, but Shanks laid him on the bed and settled between his legs, their hips brushing as he moved in for one long kiss. Mihawk's eyes were needy, kissing him back and then glaring. Sparing no further second, Shanks lined himself up and thrust into him again.

Mihawk grunted in a way that Shanks liked, and he pushed his legs up to his chest, starting to pound into him at a deep angle, not giving him a moment to breathe. Shock lined his gasps, and his head fell back, but Mihawk let out long moans and began to stroke himself against Shanks's thrusts, the other arm clutching at his shoulder to support him. Shanks could feel that he'd be close soon, and buried his arm under the pillow, using his leg strength to fuck Mihawk like he meant it.

A shout met him, it was Mihawk with his jaw dropped, begging for him to finish. Shanks tightened his toes against the sheets, pushing Mihawk's legs further as he bucked his hips forward, unable to hold back his own voice.

"H-honey, a-almost," Shanks breathed out, watching Mihawk's face change.

"Oh-" Mihawk arched against the bed, his toes curling, eyes flickering like the candles. 

"Come on, hawk," Shanks growled deep the way he did when he was close, "Come for me, baby."

"Shanks," Mihawk whimpered, a moment of vulnerability as he grabbed his shoulders. He felt Shanks fuck hard into his prostate with the right thrust that sent his nerves scrambling as he lost all reason, shouting out Shanks's name until he couldn't breathe, eyes glossing. Tears started down his face. Fixed in pleasure, releasing onto himself, he could only watch Shanks writhe over him and jerk forward, slowing his thrusts until he came to a stop.

Mihawk lay under him, eyes squinted as he huffed, glistening in the dark like a work of art. Leaning forward to his face, Shanks planted a long kiss, wiping his eyes with his thumb, knowing how badly he'd been waiting to see him. _Thank you,_ he whispered, nearly inaudible. 

Mihawk smiled up at Shanks, but his eyes were gentle. His demanding lover had been replaced with one who longed for him.

Shanks smiled back and pulled out slowly, glad for the dim bit of light as he reached for a rag to clean up. Guilt tugged at him as he looked down to Mihawk closing his eyes, soft breaths leaving his tired form as he felt Shanks wipe his skin gently.

"Mm." Mihawk peeked an eye open after a moment of being pampered. "You love me?"

Coughing, Shanks looked away with red cheeks. _You weren't suppose to remember that._ He squinted at the expecting smile under him and sighed. _You're being so sweet._

"Shanks." The facade ended, and a glare met him even as Mihawk couldn't move. "Say you love me."

He laughed in response, tossing the trash, and then gazed down as Mihawk's face grew angry. 

"Say it!"

"You can't force me to say I love you, honey-hawk."

Mihawk pouted. "Why not, I say that I love you every day."

Shanks reddened, caught off guard by the words.

"Every day that I wake up, when I take a bath, when I drink wine, when I masterba-"

"Okay!" Shanks waved a hand, controlling his heart. "I- I love." He sighed, cheeks burning hot against the flickers around the room, a tender gaze in his eyes. "I love you so much." 

“More than rum?”

”Especially.”

Mihawk smiled as Shanks blew out the candles, opening a crack of one curtain for seeable darkness, and returned to him in bed. He downed more wine to wet his throat, and probably to sleep, there was no way he wanted to continue errands of the day after sex that satisfying. Mihawk sat up to drank as well and pull on his underwear, and then laid down in Shanks's chest, admitting to himself how nice the sheets felt with their bodies sharing heat. As a warm blanket spread over them, he closed his eyes and shared Shanks's sentiment, refusing to continue any duties. It was his week off. 

They lay there in the dark, embracing one another. Neither moved an inch, even as a canon nearly smashed through the captain's quarters, shot into pieces by Yasopp with terrified eyes. Even as there were screams and shouts growing closer to the ship, and the very notably loud shout of Rockstar, "It's a marine captain! Nobody alert the boss!" Shanks refused to get out of bed. He exhaled and stared at the ceiling.

Mihawk smiled into his neck, half-asleep. "Mmm. You should have let me cut it."

"Right..." He rolled his eyes.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know about y’all buuuut I loved this chapter :>


	8. Mihawk vs Zoro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mihawk returns and gives Perona a reality check. Zoro is eager to prove himself in battle, but...

“You know that will never work,” Mihawk said in a calm voice, tilting his head up to Perona’s squirming look with sharp eyes. The statement set in with a pause before he added, _“Right?”_

She swallowed, wishing the windows in the small study were opened to drown out the silence. He read her mind as she sat there swinging her calves. The rolling stool squeaked when he rose to cross the room and push open the window. Relief entered her flushed ears with the sound of the breeze.

“Perona,” Mihawk said, sitting back down. He placed a cold hand over her ankle and rubbed a thumb along the pronounced bone, eyes gentle. “You are no longer cursed, but you are paralyzed.”

Her palms tightened over her lap, feeling a further dislike for the small room and his prying eyes. _I didn’t ask you to tell me the obvious, stupid Mihawk!_

The gloss in her eyes and quiver of her lip said to him that she understood, so he released her foot, leaning back to cross his arms and legs. 

“He’s an idiot for even telling you that, and I’m surprised that you took an idiot's words into consideration.”

Her face reddened under his glare, regretting that she’d reported anything to him in that hour. Mihawk not coming back at all would have been better. She could train Zoro to become a ballerino instead of a pirate, and then she'd start a band of traveling men that adored her, making a fortune.

The low hum from his chin as he rubbed it removed her from her thoughts. “Still, it isn’t impossible to improve your condition, there is a way.”

She raised her head, looking down at him from the observation table that was higher than the stool. “R-really?”

A ghost poked its head through the open window, watching them.

“Yes.”

“Aw, Mihawk-sama!” She threw forward her arms to embrace him, floating off the table. His brow twitched and a swift hand met her face, keeping her from planting a hug.

“It would take a very skilled surgeon,” he said over the muffling of her voice under his palm. “And one who would assure nothing goes wrong.”

She lowered her arms to pull at his unmoving wrist, talking under his hand. “If they're skilled, why would it go wrong?”

“Because.” He didn't move his arm but separated his fingers to glare into her eye. “To a surgeon that skilled, resisting the urge to experiment is unbearable. They'd need to possess impeccable integrity.”

Perona gulped as his hand lowered. Thinking over the words, she kept her fingers on his still wrist. “...so that person will be hard to find.”

She poked out a lip, eyes welling up with tears again. There'd be no reason for him to lie... and his age did give him knowledge.

“At least you understand that much.” He sighed, leaning into the back of the chair to fold a leg and cross his arms, the gentle breeze wafting through the room.

~*~

Zoro paced back and forth in front of the castle, tapping his fingers against his sword hilt. The sun was high in the sky, around the time when he trained with Mihawk. He knew little himself why he felt so eager to get his own ass handed to him.

 _It’s because I’ll know where I stand._ The thought affirmed him. 

Just as he sighed and looked for a place to plant himself in a nap, the front doors to the castle opened.

Mihawk paced through in his long serious stride. Perona floated over his shoulder, arms behind her back.

He spoke, “He's a hopeless man, really. The entire vessel was disorganized. I should have cut it in half.”

She laughed. “That's what you get for journeying with so many men, Mihawk-sama.”

Zoro furrowed his eyes, listening closer as she pointed a finger to him.

“Told you he's right there.”

“That, he is.”

Their gazes shifted to Zoro.

Perona giggled. “The dummy's been waiting this whole time!” 

“H-hey!” Zoro snapped, neck growing hot.

“He's prepared to be reprimanded, then,” Mihawk said with amused eyes.

Zoro swallowed, eyes flitting between the two of them, and then settling on Perona's smug face. “What did you say?” _What did you tell him?_

She smirked, shaking her head with a smile. _None of your business._

“Nothing that I didn't already suspect,” Mihawk answered his look. “You spent the week lazing around and even had a sip of alcohol, foolish boy.”

Zoro's jaw dropped as Perona covered her laugh. “Wh-what!? No way-” His head snapped between the two of them. She held her stomach, shaking in the air. “Tell him the truth, you-” 

“Focus.” Mihawk's voice snapped him back to his lean figure. He stood with a hand raised, donning dark pants and a chiffon white top. His outfit was the same, but his demeanor felt _different_.

Zoro loathed it, brain picking for clues of what they might have talked about.

“I will assess your training.” Mihawk reached an arm behind his back and slid the black sword Yoru from its sheath. “If you haven't gotten further in haki, then you both will die.”

Perona blinked.

Zoro's laugh rang out as he pointed a wicked hand to her. “That's what you get for talking shit!”

Her face burned while she flew to him at a fast pace, arms out to grab his neck.

“No fair! I wasn't dirty talking like you! I don't want to get punished because you're weak!” she shouted with eyes teary.

He choked, snatching at her tank top, earning shouts. “Yeah right, 'I'll train you' my ass. I haven't learned shit from your stupid dance, so now we're both going to-”

“Ahem.”

They froze, eyes locked on one another, and then turned slowly. Mihawk's sharp eyes bore holes into them, making them feel judged and uncomfortable. Zoro swallowed, releasing his hands from her shirt.

She lowered her arms and floated inches behind him. _I could make it to a boat._

“Ready yourself,” Mihawk said, pointing the blade forward. Its length glistened in the sun, a beautiful sight to behold before one takes their last breath. His eyes shifted. “Girl, don't you dare run.”

Perona stopped her motion and rotated, pouting. “Fine! Do your stupid battle and win.” She folded her legs into a sitting position and crossed her arms, blowing a raspberry.

Zoro took a breath and placed a hand on wado ichimonji. He fitted the white handle between his teeth, then adopting the three-handed stance with kitetsu and shusui. _I should have meditated._ His thoughts ran from the sound of the trees to the rustle of animals in the forest behind him. _I should have trained harder._ Instead of dancing and breaking down and acting like an idiot.

He locked his eyes on Mihawk's calm stance and then charged forward, dust kicking up from his heels.

Mihawk's smile twitched and Yoru cut through the air in a split-second, forcing Zoro back. Zoro growled and launched his body into bull stance, returning two slices. Mihawk raised the sword to swiped away the attack, leaving a second opening that Zoro exploited, swinging his arms so that his body moved forward with a hurricane of energy to force his master on the defensive.

They traded blows for a few minutes, Perona watching with a sigh. _Beat him already._ She should have known that training a loser wouldn't bode well.

Mihawk also sighed as he swung a blow with enough force to throw Zoro stumbling onto his back. Zoro slammed to the dirt-covered ground, feeling the screams of the bugs and grass echo in his ears, and forced his muscles to push him back to his feet. 

“Hm...” Mihawk had a disappointed tone. “You weren't listening.”

Perona groaned, pulling her pigtails. “Use your silly brain!”

He twitched, preparing his stance. “Like you're any damn help.” A breath entered his lungs and he shook his head, forcing the sounds around him to silence. _I have to focus._

Mihawk clicked his tongue akin to calling a cat. “It is a shame that you wasted the time you have been granted. I will be serious with my punishment, then, for one who doesn't listen.”

Zoro's heart beat unsteady as Mihawk placed a second hand on the hilt of his sword, holding it with complete balance and strength unlike before.

 _Relax._ Zoro demanded of his body but it _wouldn't_. Even a week of not being beaten had spoiled him, and his heels dug into the spot he stood, prepared to defend but not brave enough to attack.

“Ugh!” Perona lowered closer to him, “Follow me!”

Zoro nearly dropped the sword in his mouth as she flew toward Mihawk's jousting form. His eyes shook, watching the sword cleave her in half before meeting his defense. _Sh-she's-_

She stood in front of him, snapping her fingers as he blinked, seeing Mihawk stand with two hands on his sword at a distance. His heart pounded out of control. “What are you-”

Perona's eyes lit up. “Do you see it?”

“See _what!?_ ” He bared his teeth in frustration.

Mihawk raised the sword and then rushed toward them. Perona smirked and backed away again as Zoro shouted, watching the sword slice through her clean. A line of air dissipated from her shoulder to hip and she disappeared. Yoru emerged from the light fog and met Zoro's swords. He pushed against the blow with all his strength, feeling his body fly back as Mihawk bested him.

“Again!” Perona reappeared and shouted over his shoulder, startling him.

He caught his breath. _I don't get it._ A sword was placed in the dirt to wipe the sweat dripping from his brow. _It happened twice?_ Then he picked up kitetsu and bolted toward Mihawk again, prepared to strike. _Shit._ He heard the sway of the trees once more and the crunch of the pavement under his boots. 

Mihawk's taunting smile began as a word entered Zoro's ears. “Third.” He drew a foot back and extended his arm, missing the fainting blow of Yoru. Mihawk's brow furrowed, turning the blade sideways to—Zoro didn't know how he knew—slice him from stomach to chest.

Zoro leaped forward into the empty space between them, whipping his body into a twister of attacks. Mihawk turned around to halt his attack and strike back, but his eyes hardened.

“You can dodge him,” Perona whispered, voice cold on his neck, “Watch his dancing!”

Zoro scoffed, bewildered that she would joke around during his battle. “He's not-” and then his eyes widened as Mihawk gracefully rotated his torso, muscles flexing slowly as he carried the weight of Yoru through to a gorgeous hit. The sword followed his motion. _No,_ he _led_ the sword. He led the blade like a-

 _Hiss,_ the sound came before he felt the blow. Blocking wasn't enough. Zoro's body flew back into a tree and his head cracked against the bark, throwing his brain wall-to-wall as he heaved out.

“You aren't listening, Roronoa,” Mihawk's voice was calm but he had a look in his eye that Zoro couldn't pinpoint with his eyes feeling so dizzy.

Perona floated over to him, snapping her fingers. “You almost had it!”

Zoro spit blood onto the ground and shook his head. “I didn't even scratch him.”

She rolled her eyes. “You did something he didn't _expect_.”

 _What-_ His jaw dropped, looking at the shimmering gold eyes of his master... _that look._ Mihawk was angry. Zoro began to smile, forcing himself to stand again even as his head throbbed. 

“Alright,” he muttered, running toward Mihawk again. 

“Are you listening?” Mihawk asked, raising the sword.

Zoro bit down on his sword hard. _I'm trying not to!_ The wind whipped around his ears as if speaking to him as he threw slices through the air in attempts to slow Mihawk. It worked for a few seconds, but his master had an unimpressed look on his face different than seconds ago.

Perona followed him to a spot where he huffed, catching his breath. “Come on, you should see it by now.” She rolled her eyes.

“See what!?” He hissed through his teeth as Mihawk ran at him again. 

“The _dance._ ”

Zoro grumbled, “I can't focus with you saying that shit.”

“Stop trying to focus!” She hit a fist at his head, though it passed through in her ghost form. He said nothing, spinning his body into a twister again to thwart Mihawk's attack.

 _Don't focus? Why the hell would she say that?_ The world spun around him as he thought about her words rather than the battle.

The earth turned with him, and bird caws entered his ears. As he focused again, ending his attack, Mihawk looked at him with studying eyes. Zoro blinked and felt Mihawk slice him across the stomach. It was the same feeling as when Perona _wasn't_ sliced yet. He took a step back and then Mihawk took the swing _again_ in the same motion, meeting air.

Perona squealed. “Good, idiot!” It almost sounded like encouragement.

Zoro widened his eyes. _What the fuck._ Then he shook his head. _No, that wasn't normal._ Mihawk had attacked him, but he _hadn't_. _He was going to hit me, but not yet._ It almost felt like he saw the- Zoro's brow raised, unable to finish his thought.

“Seems you're listening,” Mihawk said, and then he turned his sword in his wrist before hitting Zoro in the stomach with the blunt end.

Zoro's vision went in and out as the pain traveled from his body to his mind.

Mihawk shook his head and sighed, hawk eyes narrowed. “But it isn't enough.”

Zoro fell to his knees, struggling to breathe as his body gave in to darkness and he couldn't move. He couldn't hear Mihawk's last words or the screech of Perona as she flew after him, half-concerned and half-shouting insults.

“You may live, for now, but I expected better.” 

The feeling of failure carried him into sleep.

~*~

Zoro's body felt heavy when he opened his eyes. The ceiling was gray. He was in the castle, lying on something soft. Above his forehead a pair of needles moved, clicking together as knits formed. Perona's hands knit quickly with the black thread and then stopped. He tilted his head up, looking at her lean forward to see his face clearly.

"I told you to stop thinking," she mumbled.

The pillow he felt had been her thighs, which were equal parts fat and muscle the more he thought about it. She wasn't a weakling to have survived on Thriller Bark.

"Fight me."

Perona dropped the needles to the floor, looking down at him again with an incredulous face. "Did you hit your head?" Technically, he did. Her eyes grew sympathetic, reaching a cool hand to pat his cheek. "So, he knocked out your last three brain cells." His face distorted in disbelief as she placed a finger over his lip to shush him. "There, there."

Zoro pushed her hand away and forced his body upright. He sat on the purple loveseat in the castle entrance, turning to face her. 

“Seriously." He grabbed her hand, looking more ridiculous staring into her eyes with the left side of his hair sticking up. "You have to fight me."

She narrowed her eyes, snapping a finger to raise the needles back to her hand and then place the ball of yarn to the side, tilting her head back up to his odd face.

"Stop being weird."

"Fight me."

"No!"

He grumbled, releasing his grip to cross his arms, the position more childish with such disheveled clothes. "I know I'm not seeing something that you are."

She scoffed. "That much is obvious."

"But you're not a good teacher."

Perona puffed out her lips, crossing her arms. "So? I've taught you all I can."

Zoro shook his head, rotating his body to her, folding his left leg under the right and leaning an arm against the back of the chair. He ignored the growl of his stomach. "It's not enough. I have to learn haki."

She sighed. "I don't know how to teach an idiot that, I don't fight with weapons. I can't do armament."

He said nothing.

"I thought I was teaching you dance but you keep getting distracted."

Zoro crossed his arms, copying her position. "He's right, it's not enough."

Perona said nothing, looking at his furrowed brow as he thought with his eyes closed. 

~*~

_Perona floated through the dark hall, hands clasped in a praying fist, hoping that Mihawk wouldn't kill her for entering his office. She ascended the steps to the third floor of the castle used only by him. Like a fool, she knocked twice on the door._

_'Ugh, he's not here!' she yelled at herself in her mind then shoved open the door with a touch of power, revealing the dark room lit only by moonlight through the windows. The walls were lined with journals and books, none of them she would dare to touch._

_She shifted her gaze from the small bed in the corner to his observation table with empty vials and then to his desk, empty save for scraps of paper that glistened back at her.  
_

_A faint smell of wine entered her nose as she floated to the desk, waving a finger to pick up a bottle that he'd left there. Her eyes scrolled for some semblance of a clue, tasting the home-brewed drink and looking for something that would reveal Mihawk's true wishes._

_Perona smiled, swallowing a gulp before lowering the bottle. On the desk, there was a paper that said her name in bright blue ink. She hummed, picking it up with a hand and turning it in her fingers. In the dark, it said nothing, but as she raised it to the moonlight, the words lit blue._

_'Seriously? Ridiculous Mihawk!' She groaned out and pulled the cooking list from a breast pocket, unfolding it to hold the papers together._ _New words of her note glowed._

Perona. You must teach him haki.

Here is a list of detailed procedures. 

_Her eyes ran out of words, so she lifted the cooking list, jaw dropping as she scrolled over the bulleted list of strenuous tasks._ _"Wh-what!" she shouted, then covering her mouth and looking around. "Mihawk-sama! This is too much!" And then she read the bottom line of the note._

I will test your progress.

_She rolled her eyes, balling the notes up in her hands. "As if I'm going to do anything that ugly."_

~*~

Zoro continued his deep pondered look as she put down her needles a second time and then sighed. He turned his head to her slowly as she waved a hand. "I'll try to explain it."

His eyes widened as she huffed and folded her arms. He scooted closer on the couch, staring at her intently. She shifted. "Move back, gosh, you can learn from a social distance."

"Come on," Zoro said through flitting eyes, "What aren't you telling me?"

Perona exhaled, folding her arms over the couch to bury her cheek in the space between them. Her bangs fell over one eye as she said, "I can't actually teach you haki because I don't know what your haki is."

Silence met her as his face contorted into confusion, then he swallowed and asked, " _My_ haki?"

She nodded. "Yes. My haki is dance, so that's the way I understand it. I don't know how you understand it. I thought you did during the fight, but you keep _not_ doing what I tell you to."

"Not doing what?" He tilted his head

"Ugh!" She threw up her hands.

Zoro grumbled. "Why do you have to make everything sound so complicated?"

A voice answered, "Because you are both children and idiots."

He felt cold in his limbs as he looked over the back of the couch, meeting bitterly the visage of Mihawk who donned a ruffled apron that didn't match his personality at all.

Perona's eyes lit up, smelling the aroma that he carried with him. "Mihawk-sama! Did you bake something sweet!?"

She completely ignored his swift insult while Zoro crossed his arms, hating the man.

Mihawk stood in front of the hallway that led to the kitchen, watching them with a jaded look. How much of their conversation he had heard was unknown, but he responded, "She is not incorrect." Zoro raised his head, searching Mihawk's pupils for an answer as he added, "Though she is inaccurate."

Perona pouted, crossing her arms. "I won't teach anything so brutish and-"

"Yes?" Mihawk raised a brow. She shut her mouth. He continued, "Dinner is prepared, eat and replenish your energy."

~*~

Zoro tapped his fingers on the table. The soft piano playing might have fallen on deaf ears before, but now it felt intrusive to the thoughts scurrying through his mind. What about Perona's teaching wasn't right? What the hell had he even learned? He couldn't relax, constantly shifting his position on the velvet chair, almost too soft.

"Roronoa," the voice snapped him out of his trance, and he raised his eyes expectantly to Mihawk as though the man would reveal his secrets immediately. Was there a secret? Could Zoro really just be an idiot? That didn't feel right to believe, not about fighting, at least.

Mihawk lowered his fork. "Do you understand why you lost?"

Zoro furrowed his brow, staring at his half-eaten meat loaf. "I wasn't strong enough."

Mihawk hummed, leaning back to cross one leg over the other. "What else?"

His fingers twitched, watching Mihawk drink from his wine glass. It was criminal that he'd even be allowed such a delicacy but Zoro wouldn't complain this many months in. "I wasn't fast enough."

A sigh escaped to his right, leaving a chill up Zoro's spine. His legs felt numb as he waited for a reprimand, some comment that would make it clear that his success was possible. To hear that grinding until his cells split and made new would one day leave him with becoming the world's greatest swordsman. He didn't want to hear that he should give up and that haki was not meant for him.

"You're not listening."

 _This again?_ Zoro tightened his hands on the chair's arms, snapping his neck to the irritatingly calm man. "I am, I have been listening to _her_ for a week because you said it would train me, but I'm further than before."

Mihawk frowned, golden eyes flitting from _her_ at his right, and then back to Zoro's slumped form. "You are not further, you are closer than you have ever been."

Zoro's softened, mouth parted with no response queued for praise. He must have heard wrong. 

Mihawk continued, "I would have preferred you figure it out on your own, or that the girl instructed you, but I will allow you a hint." Zoro's eyes widened, turning his body in his chair with desperate eyes. "Haki _is_ spirit."

Perona pouted, folding her arms. "That's why I taught him dance, Mihawk. My spirit isn't anything ugly, only graceful," she said matter-of-factly.

The older man paused to speak, and then rolled his eyes instead, which seemed to hurt her feelings even more as she whined, chewing sadly on a muffin when he said nothing else. 

Zoro's unfinished plate stared back at him buried in thought.

Mihawk tasted his drink and lowered the glass. "Your spirit is not dance, girl," he said with a sigh, "You _utilize_ dance to hone it."

Zoro winced, a headache starting to form. "She... trains her haki through dance?" 

Mihawk nodded. "Yes. And you train your sword mastery through those blades."

His hands felt cold as he swallowed air, his throat drying. "Then it was pointless to train in an art that I don't practice. We don't even have the same fighting style, so why would her specific training help me?" his voice rose at the end, though he hadn't intended it.

Perona's dark eyes met him, a hint of offense to them when he glanced her way.

"Because haki is not a specific art." Mihawk reached for a butter knife and lifted it, earning a flinch from both of them. He sighed. _Children._ The knife turned a dark color in his hand. "This is armament, a manifestation of _my_ spirit."

Zoro nodded, staring intently at the black reflection.

"Perona, try it."

Both he and Perona looked shocked at the request. She lowered fully into her seat, blinking at Mihawk with confused doll eyes. His look was unwavering, so she picked up her knife and stared at it, watched intently by the two of them. 

Perona scrunched up her face, focusing on the knife. For the first two tries, it did nothing, and then the blade darkened a few shades, earning widened eyes from Zoro. The color stopped, and she dropped it with a huff.

"Mihawk-sama it hurts!"

Zoro stared at her with a gaped mouth. "W-what!?" he stuttered, "This whole time you should have taught me that!"

Perona looked very offended, placing a hand over her chest. "No. I'd _never_ teach something so ugly!"

Zoro bawled his fists. _Seven. fucking. days._ A week he'd never get back, a week he could have been-

"Enough." Mihawk clapped his hands. "What Perona demonstrated is armament."

"Haki," she said.

 _"Armament,"_ he corrected. "Armament is _one_ type of haki. There are multiple types which this girl does not have a full grasp because her area is observation. But it is pointless to teach subtypes if you _lack_ spirit completely."

Perona shut her mouth, refusing to meet Zoro's embarrassed eyes.

Even the piano music paused, Rikku turning to glance, and then it hurriedly continued the slow song as Mihawk cleared his throat, placing down his own knife.

Air in Zoro's chest left. He finally reached for his fork, desperate to hold something as he stared at the center of the table in silence. Perona didn't interrupt his sulking. The bitter words sank in and lifted to his mouth with a bite of meat.

Mihawk continued in a low voice, staring at Zoro, "You do not have haki because your will is weak. Perona failed to teach you to harness your spirit, yes, but you have failed to possess spirit in the first place. Without the will to move forward, you are merely wandering.”

Zoro opened his mouth to speak.

"I will not explain further," Mihawk said, raising from his seat, glass emptied. "You will be given another chance to prove yourself once you are rested." Their eyes followed his coltish steps to the door, wondering if he would turn around and speak again, but he didn't. With a swing of the door, he was gone. 

Perona swayed her legs back and forth, unsure of what to say in the silence. Zoro didn't meet her gaze across from him, instead, he shoveled forkfuls of food into his mouth, not bothering to try dessert.

She sighed. "Okay."

"What?" he spoke into his plate, not looking up.

"I'll fight you."

His food fell from his mouth. "What?"

She rolled her eyes, nose crinkling in disgust. "I'll fight you so you can learn haki."

The swift change in his expression to a sloppy grin made her heart beat at an odd pace. 

"Really?"

"Yes..." she mumbled, crossing her arms, looking away. "I'll teach you, now stop that ugly face."

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter is steamy!! :> i'm hyped. after this many chapters, let’s turn it up a notch


	9. (E) A Steamy Lesson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perona and Zoro have an encounter in the bath. Training commences. 
> 
> Explicit content, masterbation

_On an island in the West Blue, the setting sun beamed down over the grassy shore, illuminating orange light over the head of three moving bodies at the coastline._

_"Again!" Gecko Moria shouted, pointing a large metal scissor piece in his hand._

_Perona threw her arms forward, eyes squinted as two small ghosts shot from her hands. They collided with a shadow, and it exploded. The black shape melted into the sand, and then rose into a new form._

_Blood coursed through her veins, demanding the ghosts attack her enemies. They were half their size now, but there were more of them, and after three more hits than it should’ve taken, the shadow exploded into drops of black._

_Then they rose again._

_“Eep!” she squealed as the shadow charged at her, closer this time. There was a whip through the air and then a grunt as a piece of heavy bark smashed against the dark form._

_“Move it, princess,” Absalom huffed in an exhausted voice, standing a foot taller than her. She peeked open her eyes and he had bruises and scratches up his arms._

_Twice as many shadows ran at them._

_"Moria-sama!" Perona shouted in a strained voice through her pounding heart. Tears threatened to fall from her eyes as he flicked a finger, pausing the assault with unamused charcoal-lined eyes._

_“Yes, child?”_

_Absalom said nothing, but his heaves and shaking legs accompanied her light pants._

_"C-can we take a break?" she stuttered._

_There was silence save for the waves, and Moria’s height loomed taller as the sun moved, engulfing them fully, making the air feel cold. The inhumanly huge man craned his neck and thought, then scowled._

_At last, he said, "Fine, but I will add an hour to tomorrow. Your survival depends on it.”_

_Perona nodded in a hurry, feeling her weight grow heavy out as Moria turned back toward the castle. The ground was cold but soft as she lowered to a thud. There was no more power left._

_“Kid!” Absalom hissed, motioning for her to get up quickly, before -_

_Moria looked back with a raised brow, eyes widening._ _“Perona?”_

_She coughed out a spat of blood, and then looked up with a smile, forcing strength to lighten her body again, floating two inches in the air. “I can still fight, Moria-sama.” Tears streaked her eyes as she smiled with all of her teeth, thin body exhausted._

_Absalom lowered his head, met by the glare of Moria as he passed by. He’d be punished in secret later if Perona had gotten hurt and he hadn’t been paying attention._

_The blond and blue-eyed young man swore to himself, unsure if he was more ridiculed by the fact that he couldn’t protect a 12-year-old more than half his age, or that she had lasted as long as he with a devil fruit power she had no control of._

_Perona felt her eyelids flutter as Moria cradled her in his arms. How long had it been since she’d eaten properly without throwing it up? Yet he still pushed her body to the brink._

_“-sama” she said weakly. “I can fight.”_

_“Tomorrow,” Moria said in a gentle tone, “You can fight tomorrow,” his voice grew darker, “And you will, you don’t want to end up like the others.” The failures. Those unable to keep up with Moria’s training, thrown away._

_A whimper met her as he smiled down, stroking a bang of pink hair off her sweaty forehead._

_“Please don’t take me back! Please!” the words were heavy with snot._

_Absalom looked away, unable to meet the sick visage of the man he followed._

_“I won’t have to do that, child. Remember that we’re fixing your problem, yes?”_

_She nodded hurriedly._

_“One thing at a time.”_

_“I’ll g-get stronger.”_

_“Yes you will,” he whispered, carrying her onto the grassy land as her eyes closed. “You don’t need to walk well, dear. You only need to defeat my enemies, our enemies.”_

_“Mm, yes-horo.” Soft snores carried her from the island, from training to a dream place with pink clouds and stuffed animals. “Defeat…”_

_Absalom remained on the sand, collapsing onto it when the huge figure of Moria had disappeared into the forest._ Such a shame, _he shook his head,_ mind your business. _That was how you survived in the West Blue, by keeping your mouth shut. Moria was a brutal man, a strange beast that terrified the living hell out of him, that he wanted to surpass._

 _But Perona…_ _she terrified Absalom all the more. Ever since he’d met her playing with a cat on a ruin of an island that was once a royal kingdom, he knew she was dangerous. They hadn’t meant to stop, but there were no other rest-places nearby to collect supplies. Sometimes rare fruits were to be found in secret keeps of castles, so Moria landed to excavate. The rarest fruit found was Perona, a pink-haired girl with no devil fruit powers, crippled by misfortune._

 _On inquiry with the natives, Absalom pieced it together that the citizens loathed, pitied, and feared her. Elders left food near the abandoned courtyard where she lived, but they steered clear of contact. When children tried to play with her, their parents nearly choked them pulling them back by the collar, hissing that they couldn’t play with the_ cursed _girl._

_Absalom shuddered, hugging his knees as he stared over the sea. A fallen kingdom that was once peaceful up until a coup after her eighth birthday. No survivors in the palace save for the princess. The shadows fighting them might have been hit by ghosts, but every day, more of them blatantly went off course and scratched at Absalom instead, carrying her evil smile._

_“Shut up,” he whispered to himself, feeling his blood pressure start to rise._ We have to find a cure. _Or, the whole island would be next, and they’d just moved there. Damn Moria, damn him and his greed. Damn him for striking fear into his heart of a girl._

_“Ugly-salom!” the high-pitched shout made Absalom jump out of his skeleton._

_“Ye-what?” He turned his head slowly, staring at a small ghost._ Of all the fruits, he just had to find the creepiest. _A sigh. “And it’s Ab- salom.”_

_“Ugly! I need my hat. Please bring it or I won’t share any cake with you.” She never did, anyway._

_Absalom sighed, suddenly noticing a black shadow cast by the large, hideously pink hat she plastered on her big head. Kids always had that lollipop look to them._

_“Okay,” he mumbled, rising from the sand to retrieve it and dust it off. The small white ghost was still there, and he didn’t know if she could see him through it or not. He’d gauged that it worked more like an intercom or scouting system, very useful for plundering ships at docks._

_“I have it, I’ll bring it to you.”_

_“Yay!” The blob of white cheered, doing a dance. He didn’t smile back, still exhausted from the day._

_“That’s all?”_

_“Hey, ugly-salom.”_

_“Ye, what?”_

_It stirred him, seeing the ghost turn red as an apple, twirling around 360 degrees._

_“Th-thank you!”_

_He sighed, lowering his shoulders. That stupid kid would be the death of the whole island. A devil fruit didn’t save her, it only sealed their fates. That’s why you called it a devil. You don't fuck with it._

_“You’re welcome, kid.”_

_“That’s ‘cute princess’, ugly-salom.”_

_Another sigh. “Cute princess-whatever kid.”_

~*~

On Kuraigana, the steamy chamber on the first floor of the castle was once a communal bath, but now only the three living in the castle used it, simply changing the door sign to: **_Do Not Disturb._**

There was a smaller, more extravagant bath upstairs which Mihawk frequented at times, but in the case of bathing, hardly anyone would choose a small steam room when the downstairs one was huge. The door system had worked well and in months together, no one managed to walk in on someone else.

So, why - _why_ was it that Perona sat at the end of the long tub staring at him? _What_ in the hell had possessed her? Were there substances in the food? Had Mihawk finally gone full practice and experimented on them?

“Perona,” Zoro started with a shaky voice, struggling to contain his growing frustration, the exact frustration he planned to release _alone_ and _in private_ with a few too many strokes of his hand under the faucet. 

“What?” she sounded annoyed. Hah! He almost laughed. _She_ sounded like he was a nuisance when he clearly said that he was turning in for a bath first. The entire fucking table of three had heard him. Had she gone deaf for only that minute?

“Well.” Zoro smiled, and Zoro never genuinely smiled unless he was about to blow up, prompting her to sink an inch into the water. “What in the _fuck_ are you doing here? I said I was taking a bath first.”

She eeped, sinking under as he launched a rubber ducky in a split second. It bounced off her head and landed in the center of the pool, squeaking sadly. 

“Absolutely not! Get back here!”

Her head raised up slowly, the pigtails dripping wet from the water, leaving a look of horror on his face as he also realized the duck hit her.

 _No, no, no._ “Is that actually you?”

With a sigh, she nodded, mouth in a deep pout. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“I’m not! I just wanted to take a fucking bath a-and-” _and_ _stroke my fucking dick,_ he stuttered, unable to finish his sentence, face hot. Had being a man finally betrayed him!?

“And what?” she asked with a tone of oblivious annoyance as she rose from the water. “I came here to help you-”

He whipped his body around, nearly groaning in his mouth, ears twitching at the sound of the water falling from each crevice of her body. _Shit, no._ Imagination had already taken over, seeing her bare shoulder. _Why is it so hot in here_ -

“Please put something on,” he muttered, a hand over his eyes.

Perona scoffed. _Unbelievable!_ “I’m wearing my towel, look!”

Trained to the shower, he couldn’t see her pointing to the pink cloth. She made an effort to tightly tie it around her entire torso, too, just so he wouldn’t have idiot problems. What good was being conscientious?

Zoro slowly glanced back, cheeks flushed, and seemed relieved that she was covered. Still, he didn’t turn around fully whatsoever, desperate to hide the raised front of his towel, already hearing her laughs that _would_ begin if she knew. It was bad enough that she hadn’t hit him with a ghost yet, maybe the anger was simmering like a slow cooker. 

“How are you supposed to help me?” he asked, walking carefully to a shower faucet, directly in her line of sight, and not a centimeter left or right of it. 

She sank into the water to her chin and sighed, closing her eyes. “I’m going to teach you to harness spirit. I've been practicing.”

He paused in thought, hand lingering over the nob, and then turning the hot water on, cursing when it felt cold first. A gasp escaped loud that made him snap his head to her as she pointed straight at him.

“It-it’s not what it looks-”

“That’s my soap! Are you the one that’s been using it!?” Her eyes narrowed and he followed the invisible pink laser beam to the ledge at his chest-height, a cream bottle of soap staring back at him.

“N-no.” At least, not every time. Soap was soap, what did it matter?

Just as he exhaled, she added, “Do you want me to turn around for that?” 

Her pointed finger lowered to his hard dick raising the towel, forcing him to shove a hand over it. He gritted his teeth at the contact, but at least then she couldn’t see. 

“It’ll go away…” he muttered, face _burning hot_ from the faucet hitting his cheek. Fuck, that hurt. He turned it down until it was mildly warm.

She hummed, nonchalant. “I guess I don’t mind if you use the soap, I’d rather you not smell bad.” It was technically Mihawk’s soap, anyway, so he was a thief stealing from a thief. That bored man always came up with new inventions, and as long as it was cute, she cheered him on.

Zoro sighed, looking at her wet appearance and thoughtful expression, the way her eyes bobbed all over while she talked before settling onto the face of the person. He stirred once she blinked at him, feeling his own heartbeat. It didn’t make sense to meet him so vulnerable and think nothing would happen. Maybe kissing wasn’t enough for her.

Only steam separated them now.

“Perona,” he said in a low voice, an octave higher than the hot water running down his back. Drops began to wet his hair until it stuck onto his shoulders. 

He wet his lips, struggling not to convey _want_ and _lust_ with his eyes. A feeling of dirtiness settled as her cold expression didn’t change. Damn it, even that was fair game in the growing things that could turn him on being so frustrated. 

“What are you-” She realized, watching his hand lower to the towel and unwrap a corner, eyes widening as the white cloth stroked him gently as it slid to the floor, his mouth parted in a sigh. Her throat bobbed in a swallow, eyes raising back up to his girthy shape standing at attention. 

Truthfully, she had wanted to help him. No, not with the penis thing, you nasties. The feeling of wanting to help _anyone_ was a rarity, and she’d scoured the library for two days, even reading a book titled: _How to Speak to an Idiot,_ more surprising, the book existed! Being in the bath with him was a part of the plans she’d crafted with tunnel vision. She had studied with pink and purple chalk all over the board, erasing her design sketches to make space. To teach him what she knew, to prove she wasn’t some bimbo, to erase the way Mihawk rolled his eyes at her...

What did that goal mean with him standing there? Speechless couldn’t begin to describe her, but her heart pounded in her chest.

“Z-zoro?”

He wet his lips, stepping back fully into the water, his moss-like hair stretching into yang strands down his shoulders, and he hadn’t bothered to cut it. It was striking against his blunted jaw and nose and wide natural lips, just fleshy enough to make a kiss worth it.

A sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes, allowing drops of water to run down his face, neck, pectorals, the long scar across his chest, his pelvis, along his length, dripping off the tip, though it sprang right back up.

She shifted her gaze down, jaw dropped. Zoro was _naked_ in front of her. If it wasn’t clear by now, she’d not only infiltrated his bath but completely burst through the front door and said, _“Drop that towel!”_

 _Where the heck did I go wrong?_ her thoughts raced.

“I don’t mind if you watch,” he finally said after a gasp to shake the water from his breath, peeking over his shoulder after he turned to the side to fully soak his hair. “Or if you want to make something of this.”

Naturally, the curve of his ass was evident and excellent, not that it wasn’t from his clothes - every - single - day. She gulped and managed to scoff, crossing her arms over her large chest and squeezing her legs together. 

“I meant it, I’m training you in here.” Thank god her voice sounded normal, even defiant.

Zoro _hmm_ ’d in his throat before responding, earning a shiver from her body. 

“Alright, but this is my bath, I’m going to treat it like it is.” He turned around to face the shower, muscled back, legs, and ass on full display.

A soft gasp met his ears as Zoro exhaled, looking into the small mirror with slight anxiety. Of course, he had it after her first encounter walking in on him, that was his bedroom but still. Whatever was going on with them, it was new - fragile - not even half a year in. His heart hadn’t let up yet, but he managed to slow it down seeing that she didn’t react to him with hostility. _Fuck._ He looked down at his hard dick, leaning his head back to take in how good the water pounded on it. Imagining her under that towel sure helped.

So far, she said nothing, so he stepped aside from the water and pumped some of the soap, a fruity smell entering his nose. It was probably made from one of those fruits that hung outside of the courtyard. He could tell she was still looking at his ass - and damn it, that might’ve been one part of his body he was proud of. You didn’t train for days to not show it off. Rubbing the soap along his chest and arms, he lathered with his hands and sighed, marveling at simply how good it felt to wash down after training.

Mihawk had meant it when he said Zoro had to figure the haki shit out before fighting him again, so the evil man was nowhere to be found for the past two days - coincidentally, neither was Perona, save for dinner. He didn’t mind, if neither of them taught him then he’d learn it himself. Luffy depended on it. 

Looking over his shoulder, he saw her lean against the side of the bath, arms folding over the ledge to support her rested cheek. An exhale escaped him.

 _At least, look at me._ He blinked. _Did I just fucking think that?_

Eyes flicked over to him in the same thought and he whipped back around, face growing hot even under the water. The action couldn’t be avoided, he bent over to soap down his legs, figuring his whole body may as well smell good if he actually _was_ going to be watched. Better to give a good impression. Then he rose his hands to his thighs, biting his bottom lip as his lower body ached to be massaged.

A moan almost escaped, but he coughed instead, breathing a little heavier, careful to lather soap in his groin and then around back, pumping the tab to add more there. His hand was too rough, and he stifled a groan again, struggling to keep from _going to town_ on his dick. _Patience,_ he whispered downstairs. He waited until fully clean and then placed a hand over his shaft, leaning back against the wall.

Her wide eyes met him, somewhat surprised by the sudden display. Zoro’s cheeks burned but he didn’t let up, parting his jaw as he stroked himself under the faucet, face hesitating with emotion. 

_Watch me._ She followed his hand rub from his green tuft of hair - seriously, even there was green? - and then slick from the shaft to the tip, him blinking with a parted jaw.

“Shit,” he moaned out, pumping his hand at a steady pace, hearing the water shift. She crossed her legs. 

_Look at me,_ he begged with his eyes, biting his lip, hair stuck to his neck, steam rising from his skin as he picked up speed. A low crow escaped as he trailed his stomach with his other hand, back arching against the wall.

Perona bit her bottom lip, watching his parted jaw tilt upward to the dim light, and there was a squelch of soap as his hand flew forward, catching cum in his palm. _Smooth._ Zoro huffed, closing his mouth before looking at her, face morphing into a smile.

“You could have touched yourself,” Zoro said with a smirk, stepping into the far end of the bath after cleaning up. He sank into the hot water with a long _ahh_ that made her flinch. “I wouldn’t mind if you did, it’d be hot.”

Clearly doing _that_ in front of her improved his mood. She still couldn’t believe him. To her surprise, he wrapped a very, very short towel around his waist before getting into the bath, but did it matter after he’d put everything on display?

“Are you alright?” he asked, frowning.

The water shifted as he moved closer, and she inched back, aware that there was little dividing them but several feet of water. Even clothes seemed like hardly a barrier now. Kissing in the kitchen, the garden, anywhere - his body was still there, pulsing under his thin clothes.

“Hey,” he said with a little more concern in his voice, brows furrowed.

Perona looked at him and smiled, which didn’t please him at all. _She’s mad._ He was stupid, he shouldn’t have jerked off in front of her, she wasn’t ready for it.

The thoughts behind his eyes were evident as he growled under his breath. “I’ll get out. Tell me when you’re done.”

Seeing his hot figure rise in the water, she widened her eyes. “Wait! I have to train you in here!”

Zoro glared. “It’s making you uncomfortable.”

She snapped her head down to the water, crossing her legs tighter. _To say the least._

He followed her expression and softly breathed with confused brows.

“I-Isn’t it?”

Seeing the bite of her lip which made him pause.

“I-I won’t look, if you want to…” he didn’t know how to finish his sentence. “...take care of yourself.” 

The offer hung in the air as she pushed her thighs together, knowing that it’d been a while since she’d entertained such urges. They could be ignored, or remedied by borrowing a cute body - but - but -

“Touch yourself,” he said in an inviting voice, brown eyes watching her carefully.

“Don’t look,” she whispered, unclenching her thighs to allow the pent up feeling to spread through her legs to her torso, sighing with a slow blink.

Zoro struggled with something, saving that face in his mind, and then turned around in the bath, listening to the water shift behind him and her breaths.

Perona loathed it, the feeling that _she_ had to give in to something, but the current allowed to flow against her labia as she shifted her legs was all she needed. She slipped a hand into the water and gasped, surprised at how good rubbing over the area felt. That motion was enough to get a slow hum going.

_“I find it hard to believe you would take an idiot’s words into consideration.”_

“Shut up,” she hissed, realizing she was taking his words gratuitously into consideration, even touching herself as the idiot suggested shamelessly.

“Sorry, I thought I was being quiet,” Zoro moaned in his voice.

She cracked open her eyes to see his figure facing away from her, but shoulders moving as his hand jerked, an additional low groan escaping him.

“Not you,” she said in a soft voice, spreading her lips with one hand and rubbing the other one against the open flesh. That was the motion that allowed her to sink deeper into the water, tackling the difficult day she'd had. Forget the castle's beasts, Mihawk's bickering, all of it. She could only feel the pulsing of her own body and her fingers.

It felt good to simply touch herself and explore the area for minutes, but the amazing part came from the nub of nerves that was her clit. “Oh,” she gasped, face suddenly embarrassed as Zoro flinched in response, pausing his motion, catching his breath. 

“God, Perona.”

“D-do you always do this in the bath?” She didn’t know why she asked, spreading her legs wider to rub against her clit. It was too silent otherwise. Too much time had passed.

“Releases stress.” Zoro swallowed, one hand leaned against the ledge while the other stroked his half-hard dick. “Don’t you?”

A wave of pleasure trickled through her before she answered in a moaning voice, “Ah, no. Not that much-Ah.” She struggled, rubbing harder against her clit, her body responding in pulses.

Zoro's voice muffled in his forearm. “Fuck, I’m coming.”

“N-no, wait.” 

He removed his hand, grunting as his dick itched for contact. By instinct, he turned his head slightly. “Are you almost-“

“Idiot!”

He snapped it forward, clenching his jaw at her low moans, begging to be taken to a climax. _Hurry._

Perona swirled her clit in circles, rubbing down along her flesh with two fingers on her other hand, the pattern that made her really start to feel her pleasure peak. That made her arch from the contact, struggling to get there, but she was- she was going to- 

Zoro could tell by her voice, he grabbed his dick and released himself from his stalemate, coming with her. “Perona,” he moaned out as she whispered, "Zoro."

Soft strokes took them down from their climaxes, and she relaxed into the water, humming as she placed her last touches.

Zoro moaned out again, “Can I turn around.” 

Light huffs escaped her as she nodded, readjusting her towel. She realized he couldn’t hear her and breathed out a hoarse, “Y-yes.”

Zoro’s hair looked a mess as he faced her and grinned, elbows resting on the ledge. “Damn, that was kind of hot.” Satisfaction made him believe it, seeing the glossy look in her eyes and flushed cheeks, that this wouldn’t be their last bath. His whole body felt good. There was something about a hot bath that really calmed down every single muscle.

“You feel better?” he asked, earning a red face.

“A little.” She crossed her arms, still coming down from her high, swallowing saliva to moisten her throat. “Don’t think this is what I came for, though.”

“You came,” he smirked. 

“Ugh...” _Dummy._

“Felt fucking good, right?” The casual swears made her flinch, feeling somewhat lewd _._ It wasn’t dignified at all to share that kind of cuteness with him, but... it was different. 

She scoffed. “You’re not charming.”

The sound of the water shifting entered her ears as he waded closer, earning a redder face from her. "I'm not?" he asked with a smile, brows twitching to watch her demeanor.

He moved even closer as she didn't cross her arms, until his chest was inches from hers. 

"Not one bit."

Zoro leaned in to kiss her.

~*~

Perona waded near the center at one end of the large pool, and Zoro at the other. He hadn’t noticed it before, but there were no ghosts with her, and he didn’t know if asking might make them reappear. Did those things have a mind of their own?

“Pay attention,” she said, hands placed on top of the water. How was she not passing out? Was the bath freshwater? Fucking hell, he had too many questions. _This is training,_ he hissed to his body, hoping it would flick an on-switch to get in grind mode. _Shit,_ grinding would be nice. He lingered over her towel, wanting to do more than just kiss her. With a small yank, it'd be gone. 

“Zoro!” she snapped.

The shout made him blink into focus, rubbing his head sheepishly. 

“I’m not using my ghosts, so don’t make me,” her voice was angry. He gulped and nodded. That answered one question at least. His eyes drifted into the water, realizing the slight flinches of her torso. Aches.

“Are you on your feet?” He looked shocked as she nodded. “No way, that’s going to-” _Hurt._

Silence met him as he looked into her frowning face. _Focus._ They should have done the training before getting off, and not after. The sooner they finished, the sooner he could take a look and make sure she was fine.

“What’s the first step?”

She huffed. “No steps, but you have to close your eyes. I need you to really listen to the bath. And I mean _listen._ ”

 _Listen to the bath?_ He raised a brow but closed his eyes shut. Whatever that meant. A breath escaped him, and he tried his best.

For a few minutes, he stood there tapping a hand against his thigh, waiting for some kind of action. Drip. He could hear the faucet drip, and the water falling down the pipes. Drip. So clear to his ears.

Even as a child, he was told his hearing was excellent, one of the few praises he received from his dojo master. He'd train for days, despite anyone looking down on him, despite hearing the things adults whispered. Yet, on that day, he’d never heard it coming. His hearing failed him, he couldn’t have known his best friend would-

Perona felt the moment where his eyes snapped open and he choked out.

“Don’t forget to breathe, horohoro.”

“R-right.” He nodded, looking shaken.

“Listen,” she said softly with a smile, and he closed his eyes again, taking up a small breath this time, following her inhale and exhale commands. It helped. Barely. He knew how to breathe, he meditated, sometimes. 

Zoro listened again to the water flowing at his waist, even though it came up to her chest. Like waves. The sea. Open and vast, going nowhere. He was on the Sunny again with Luffy running to him. The bath had a gentle breeze from the air vent. It ran through Luffy’s hair, blowing those messy curls over his forehead. Luffy was napping on him again. Zoro reached out and brushed a hand over his hair, stroking the softness back, freezing as he revealed furious eyes. _Why weren’t you there, Zoro? You were too drunk to come save me, weren’t you!?_

Perona closed her eyes, struggling with the feeling in the room. The bath was calm on her end, but more like _roaring_ waves at the other side. “Zoro, breathe,” she whispered. She’d studied for so many hours, her method had to work.

The water shook.

“Zoro.”

He snapped his eyes open and darted his pupils wildly at her. She opened her eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Zoro looked shocked at her statement and then wiped his glossing eyes. “It’s just water.”

“Okay…” she said quietly, watching his expression this time that he closed his eyes.

The listening continued, and his shaken stance remained. Again, he listened for the bath, but this time he heard sounds in the castle. It was familiar like little whispers that he always felt tickling his skin on his night walks. Laughing in his ears. 

“Come back,” she whispered, suddenly so far away from him.

He approached the bathroom door, brushing against it to enter, and then he was pulled hard, yanked through the air by his collar. A battle ensnared him, and he was thrown into the wall, spat on by bodies dressed in royal garbs. Soldiers marched by. A loud piano played in his ears.

_“Rikku. Stop.”_

There was silence as he snapped open his eyes with the most _what the fuck_ expression that he could manage. 

“Stay in this room.” 

“What was that?”

Perona sighed. “I can’t control every ghost. Rikku can really mess with you.” Zoro didn’t understand what that meant, or even what Rikku was, but he supposed it answered two questions. 

“Then that didn’t count.” He glared at the white figure poking its head through the wall.

“Enough,” Perona hissed, and it was gone.

Zoro looked at her surprised, unable to conjure a question

“Let’s try again.” 

He wasn’t going to argue.

On the third repeated try, he found himself listening to the pooling of the water set off its course, flowing between their torsos. Droplets fell from her hair, which he hadn’t focused on before. Her breathing was so quiet, too, barely-there like when he'd found her in the woods. For a moment, she was with him in his mind, pulling him through the bath, smiling, touching herself. Inviting him against her body.

Perona opened her eyes and looked at Zoro curiously. The first two tries hadn’t worked, but she could feel a sense of calm through the water and see a gentle look on his face. Maybe he had clutched his spirit finally.

“Zoro,” she whispered, smiling. He snapped open his eyes with a troubled look, prompting her face to fall. “What happened?”

Zoro shook his head. “Nothing.” _You happened,_ he couldn’t meet her glare as she rotated her neck to see his face.

“You were doing well.” She tried to give some encouragement.

 _Until I wasn’t._ Zoro had seen her face, the way she pulled away suddenly, that expression of rejection, of hating the way he looked at her, silently shrieking that someone so weak could never touch her. The feeling burrowed itself into his mind in so few seconds, making his chest tighten.

“Let’s practice tomorrow.”

Perona blinked her eyes, shocked. “What!? You can’t be giving up already! I told you this method-“

Zoro tensed, making her silence and slowly walk across the water, wincing as her heels struggled to maintain balance. “Stop, don’t strain yourself.”

“Zoro.” 

She was close, but he wouldn’t meet her look.

“What did you see?” 

_If I don’t learn haki, I won’t get stronger. If I don’t get stronger, I can’t help Luffy. If I can’t help Luffy, I-_ His breath tremored. What was there after him? Not even being the World’s Greatest Swordsman compared to being with him, he couldn't take it—

“Zoro, breathe.”

What was that sound? Violent heaves were in his ears and she shook his shoulders, wincing at the pain from her legs up, clinging onto his chest. It was him. The world was so loud like everything had been let in at once. Zoro froze, feeling her arms wrap him in a hug, enough for him to quit his breath until his heart burned like fire, and then he inhaled in as much oxygen as he could, closing his eyes, arms coiled around her back. 

Perona hugged him tight around the neck, unable to do much else. It was the one time her powers were useless. The ability to break someone’s spirit did nothing to fix it, not like fixing a body up with gauze - even as bad as she’d first done when he got to the island. His lip quivered against her forehead and hot tears touched her cheek, accompanied by a crack in his voice.

“I can’t- I can’t fix this.”

Perona looked over his shoulder into nothing, eyes widened. Her jaw gaped, unable to urge words as he full-on sobbed, dampening the side of her face pressed against him.

“Luffy-”

Her eyes couldn’t water, it all evaporated. _I was supposed to help, and now it’s worse._

“I can’t-”

_I can only hurt people._

_***_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to be a clown for Halloween. Thanks for reading! I went back and added a Mihawk chapter as well, so two updates in one, haha :)


	10. (E) How to Fix a Broken Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perona doesn’t give up on their their training. Zoro has a concern. 
> 
> Explicit content, oral sex

The day was wonderfully sunny, a rarity, which meant having lunch outside. Mihawk didn’t hesitate to eat the cucumber paninis that Perona offered with his wine. He sat elegantly in a chair on the courtyard, reading through the late paper as the sunshine glistened through his colorless visage.

Next to him on a small snack table, there was a letter sloppily written by none other than Shanks. Perona craned her neck to make out the words, finding herself shaken that there was only one ugly sentence: 

_Hey honeyyy, I’m so drunk. Loev your buttt._

She wrinkled her nose as Mihawk hummed along to the piano’s tune, sipping from his wine glass. _What does he see in that stupid man?_

A particular headline stuck out about civil unrest in a distant country put to peace overnight. An image depicted a photo of a word scorched into large castle doors: **honey**. In the small text, reporters offered 500 berries for any leads on its origin. Mihawk found humor in knowing that they would find none.

“-sama?” she finished in a curious voice when he tuned back in, one leg folded over the other. Her cushioned seat was on the opposite side of the table, adjacent to his.

“Speak,” he said calmly, sitting in a similar posture as she. He didn’t snap immediately, which told her that his good mood was not interrupted.

“Um, what’s with this un-cute letter?” 

His head turned slowly, millimeter by millimeter, making her hold a triangle cut sandwich piece closer. Nothing could ready her heart for the moment that he smiled and let out a closed-mouth chuckle. His eyes had even crinkled.

“It’s an idiot’s apology,” and he left it at that.

“Did dummy Shanks do something to make you mad?” she asked with moon eyes, prompting him to sigh and close the paper, folding it over one knee. 

They’d briefly discussed his trip once—it seemed uneventful to her until she noticed the creeping smile on his face in the third-floor study—but it’d been four days since his return, and two days since the bath with that green-haired idiot.

“He’s choosing the future over me,” Mihawk said thoughtfully.

She gaped. “Why would he do that? I thought you had a good trip. Didn’t you sink a pirate ship?” And God did he love doing that.

He drank another sip, noting how talkative she felt on that afternoon. “Yes, it was quite delightful. This gesture,” he pointed to the paper, “is his way of saying he will continue to be a selfish man.”

Perona crossed her arms. “That’s so dumb.”

“It is.” Mihawk had never truly looked so content. “Such a fool,” he added coolly.

They traded no further words on the topic, and he continued his wine, turning to the riddles section of the paper, pulling an ink pen from his pocket.

 _Seriously, so boring._ She sighed and rotated to face forward, watching the sun gleam over the courtyard fountain and all of its flowers. Since planting an array of new seeds, she could bear to sit outside in the beautiful landscape, but it was uneventful. Sometimes the sun wouldn't come out and the land was lit hazy grey.

“Seven letters. Third letter T. A flower.”

“Petunia,” she muttered, leaning an elbow on the arm of the chair and lazing against it as her ghosts disappeared through the sun’s rays.

Mihawk mumbled more words to himself that she might or might not have answered. Her mind was elsewhere, staring at a plant in the garden that looked green like moss. It was ugly, and she thought it didn’t belong there with all of the pink and purple roses and perennials.

“Have you reached a solution?” Mihawk asked plainly, scribbling a complicated 12-letter word into boxes.

She rotated her head left with a confused doll expression.

“Your training of Roronoa,” he said only after rolling his eyes once.

Facing forward, she huffed, straightening her legs in the chair with a snap. 

“I took your advice and it made things worse, Mihawk-sama,” her words were muffled, as though that would make his harsh glare less intense.

“I merely explained your fruit to you, which I shouldn’t _have_ to have done given that I am not its owner. Your previous master was clearly incompetent.” The swordsman's tongue was sharp as ever.

“Moria-sama would have told me more.” Her face contorted into a tight frown. It wasn’t her fault that Thriller Bark fell into tragedy due to Zoro's stupid captain. “But… I know that I can break people.”

“Perhaps he didn’t know himself considering your haki is incomplete.”

She puffed out her lips. _Well, it's not like it's easy to learn._

Mihawk scoffed. “Don’t look so morbid.” 

_Quite the nerve of words coming from a man who rides on a coffin._ Tighter than ever, did she bite her tongue.

“Horo-horo can disarm spirit. A very useful talent for defeating unsuspecting foes, even those with armament, should you hone it,” he continued, tapping his pen. “Five letters, reptile.”

“Hydra.” Perona groaned, sore in her mouth. “It’s not useful for teaching spirit, though, Mihawwwk-sama. I haven’t even used any ghosts on him, and he’s still messed up. I- I just don’t know what to do!” Her eyes glossed and she kicked her legs.

“Do nothing.” 

“What?” She paused her tantrum.

“Ten letters. Second letter E.”

“Depression.” _What do you mean?_

Mihawk chuckled. “Perfection.”

“Maleficent.”

“Not even close.”

Perona rotated her torso, glaring into his yellow irises. “Punishment.”

“Second letter is _E,_ child.” Then he scoffed, shaking his head over the paper as she sighed and sank into the cushioned seat. A breeze passed and he said, “You must do nothing, that is how you continue on.” 

She waited for him.

“Your ghosts were a band-aid. So what if he’d been hit by a few? That’s not enough to leave someone who isn't weak in permanent ruin. I nearly cut him in half once for much less than you two children might bicker for.”

She ignored the last part, already imagining where the long scar was after she’d seen all of him.

A swallow sank in her throat, realizing something. “Ha… right, a few… hollows,” and definitely not tens of ghosts a day for any little annoyance...

“Your ghosts merely respond to the feelings already there. If he was being attacked, then he might justify negativity. If there’s nothing to attack-”

She sat up with wide eyes. “Then he can’t blame me, right? Are you saying the fight is only inside him?” 

Mihawk hummed and shrugged. “Perhaps.”

Perona huffed and leaned against a hand again. _Always so cryptic._

“Ah.” He tapped his paper, prompting her to turn her head and look over. “Leadership.”

“That’s it?”

Nodding, he filled the word in the completed puzzle. “Leadership, that finishes the task.” And then he folded the paper with a sigh, untangling his long legs to rise from the cushioned seat. 

She tilted her head up with confused eyes as he crossed to her side of the table and extended a hand in a familiar gesture.

“You want to dance?” she asked, eyes lighting up.

“I’d like to assess what that fool has practiced with you.” He looked at her feet and she smiled, snapping a finger to raise her body into the air and take his hand, which was warmer than she expected.

“Can I have rice pudding for dinner?”

“I suppose.”

~*~

Zoro sat alone on the floor in his room, staring at an oversized pair of dumbbells. His arms and legs ached, and possibly every muscle that he could train with them. Instead of venturing outside, he jogged in place, held isometrics for as long as possible, and meditated. 

Such was two days since their bath.

Letting out a sigh, he hugged his knees and propped his head in-between, feeling the whispers at the back of his neck and the room almost spinning around him.

 _Enough,_ he hissed to the laughs.

The ghost-like giggles danced. 

“Enough!” 

All was silent, and he groaned, stretching his back against the wall, eyes staring at nothing. _This is getting old._

There was a shuffle of feet that made him look to the door, seeing light shift underneath. 

“Perona,” he said loud enough for her to hear, “I’m skipping dinner.”

She let out a sigh, then her voice was muffled. “Can I come in?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I’m coming in.”

Perona flicked a finger and the door creaked open for her. The room was lit orange by rays of the sun and wasn’t a mess like she expected it to be. Bed corners were tucked neatly and the window let in a breeze that kept the air from growing stale. As she surveyed the space, she found him slumped in the corner, glaring at her with annoyed eyes. 

_Mad? After you’ve had the nerve to hermit away!?_

“Zoro.” She floated to him slowly, lowering next to a dumbbell. 

He kept his stiff posture, mumbling, “What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Her eyes rolled to the ceiling. “Maybe we should continue working on haki. Maybe you’ve locked yourself in here long enough. So many _silly willy_ maybes.”

The baby voice made him grit his teeth. Zoro folded his arms, glaring at the ghosts behind her that poked their heads in the doorway.

Perona pouted, crossing in return. There was silence between them as she looked over his sweaty, disheveled appearance. The brown in his eyes looked faded even against the sunset.

With a flick, she lowered fully to the floor, knees together, ankles folding to her side. Her eyes traced the longest scar. Had Mihawk really cut him?

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?” he asked in return.

“Suffering.”

Zoro shifted uncomfortably.

“He won’t acknowledge it, you know. No matter how much you lock yourself away, it won’t be for his sake.”

“Mihawk-”

“Not Mihawk,” she said sharply as his eyes grew confused and then angry, “Straw Hat-kun.”

Zoro bared his teeth. “You don’t know _anything_ about him.”

Perona paused but resumed her upset face. “I know that he wouldn’t give up just because one ghost messed with him. It took more than one to take him down.” She didn’t know that for sure, the memory was foggy.

Zoro stuttered.

“Or is it someone else you’re upset over?”

He opened his mouth.

“Is it a woman?”

She didn’t let him answer.

“Or is it _you_ fucking with you?” 

The _ugly_ word sliding off her tongue made him tighten. 

She leaned closer, enough to feel his heat. “Do you have something you’re running from?”

Growling, Zoro rotated his body away, ignoring the flowery scent that she brought in with her.

“Shut the hell up! Seriously.” He took a breath. “This is all easy to say when-“

“When what? I can’t even run, what would I run away from?”

“You can float away.”

Perona narrowed. “I’m not floating away from anything. I don’t have anything to float from.”

Zoro couldn’t hide the curiosity in his look rising above the anger as she extended her legs to stretch them, leaning back against the floor on two palms. Her head rotated to the ceiling as she hummed. The mood felt awkward without either of them speaking.

“What are you trying to say?” He searched her face with his eyes.

“I don’t know.” She exhaled. “Mihawk said that trauma is one of the ways that haki develops; if it doesn’t break your spirit, that is.”

“Then why the fuck can’t I use it properly? I’ve been through enough bullshit.” His collection of scars attested from his chest to his ankles.

She shrugged. “It could be different for everyone. There are different types, right?” A fact that he found irritating. “Maybe people develop it in different ways.”

Before he could grumble, she interrupted, “A few years ago, Moria-sama took me back to my kingdom where I was born. There was nothing there.”

Zoro paused. “Nothing?”

“Desolate.”

“Did everyone leave? Or...” He knew better.

“War. It was the second that had happened since I was born. If Moria-sama had never taken me in, then I would have died in it, or maybe before it since I was alone.”

“So you’re not an actual princess?”

“Of course, I am.” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “My entire family is dead, and that land is gone, so it’s not like I have a throne to go claim.”

“Shit.” Zoro blinked, raising his eyes back to hers. “That’s… heavy.”

She looked nonchalantly, half of the orange glare illuminating her face. “Not really. I don’t care. I didn’t belong there.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“You can’t just give up.” His own words played in his ears as she narrowed her eyes, half of her face burning in the sunset. “If you neglect it, it’ll get worse. Right?”

Zoro looked down at her ankles, tracing the small bruises with a finger. She wore a long skirt to her shins on that afternoon, but he could feel the slight rise of bandages under her leggings.

“Right.” He sighed, pushing away the sounds of the mansion and meeting the anticipation in her eyes. “I’ll stop being a big bitch if that's what you're saying.”

Perona smiled, opening her arms in a motion as he glanced upward.

“What?”

“Make-up hug.” She wiggled her fingers impatiently. “Come on, this is a luxury for a sad brute like you.”

One side of his _sad brute_ smile and an eyebrow raised, not missing a chance to be suggestive. “Hug? Or an excuse to touch me?”

Perona lowered her arms and moved back an inch, unaffected by the sultry tone. To boot, her nose crinkled, nearly stinging his pride if there wasn’t truth to the words that came after. “Actually, you should shower first. Use as much of my soap as you want.”

He sniffed himself once and didn’t argue back with her for the first and only time in his life.

~*~

Zoro bathed alone in the largest bath, which wasn’t different than usual, but it felt odd knowing that she would join him soon. _Shit, does it have to sound like that… as if something’s going to happen._

He didn’t know how to respond when she gave him a pair of shorts to train in. He sat on a stool, staring at the steam rising from the floor, lost in thought.

_What is this?_

His eyes had practically glued himself to her towel before, and that time in her room, he remembered seeing the figure of her body through her dress, wondering about it. 

_Why am I thinking about this?_

Zoro looked down at his palms; they had wrapped around her waist and kissed her. The act should have felt foreign compared to the number of men he’d touched.

 _She’s the first woman…_ that he wanted to keep his hands on, even after she annoyed him senselessly, and bothered him, and taught him ridiculous things. _...but it doesn’t feel like it._

Once he quit thinking, he closed his eyes and scrubbed his hair with his fingertips, listening to the noises around him again. Meditation turned any lingering thoughts into silence, leaving the sensation of his scalp being scrubbed, not the hot water beating his back and stretching down his spine like rubber.

_Messy fingers yanked at Zoro’s hair, prompting him to snap open his sleepy eyes and scowl, awakened from his nap. “Ugh, geez, fuck, Luffy!”_

_A tanned face leaned over him and then Luffy’s glare came into focus. “Come on, Zorooo, make rooooom.”_

_Luffy scrunched up his face and pouted in the way that got him whatever he wanted._

_Zoro grumbled under his breath and then shifted over in the hot tub, leaving a square of space. “You’re just gonna drown again, idiot.”_

_Luffy didn’t listen as he dipped a toe into the hot water and then his muscular legs, no inch foregone by glancing eyes. As he settled across from Zoro, he grinned. “Not this time-”_

_Zoro interrupted, “Your face is drooping.”_

_Luffy started flailing and Zoro sighed, reaching over to save his captain. They settled into a position where Luffy leaned over the edge, face buried in a towel to keep breathing and Zoro sat close to him scooping water onto his back with a pail begrudgingly.  
_

_“You’re the best, Zoro...” he murmured._

Zoro turned the faucet off and trailed to the small dressing room connected to the bath, grabbing a towel. He sighed, staring over the pair of scuba shorts that Perona had given him. The material was stretchier than he was used to. _Will this suffocate them?_ His prized possessions, he meant.

It felt weird to put on clothes just to get wet again. _Then again, who knows what the fuck’ll happen otherwise._ A stupid grin spread across his face as he pulled on the shorts to cover himself from his thighs to his lower waist and then walked back to the large bath across the wet tiles. Once in the hot water, he sunk to his chin and leaned his head back, the waves tickling his ears.

~*~

Perona stared at herself in her bedroom mirror, humming. “Too ugly?” she asked the glass, turning her body to the side.

A small ghost encouraged her.

The striped top she wore was shaped like a sports band and supported by thick, wide straps. It covered most of her cleavage while the bottoms were a pair of high waisted shorts that showed the skin from her waist to her ribs and revealed her slim legs. Her suit itself hugged her figure, but she felt confident that it wouldn’t interrupt an idiot’s training.

She moved right to her daybed by the windows and picked up a donut-shaped float, pulling it over her head and then pushing down until it popped over her breasts and stayed put between her ribs and stomach. _Phew._ Satisfied, she left the room, drifting down the hallway to the stairs that led to the first floor. 

Sharp steps followed behind as Mihawk emerged from the third-floor suite and study, raising a brow. “You’re swimming at this hour?”

It was getting dark out the large windows.

“Nope, taking a bath.”

“A bath dressed like this?”

She batted her eyes. “Yep, so I can master everything and beat even you, Mihawk-sama.”

He almost snorted, following her to the first floor, a hint of amusement to his yellow eyes. “I don’t care, just be on time for dinner since it is your own selfish request.”

“Kay.” She smiled cruelly, round eyes narrowing. “Extra sweet, please.”

The grumble that met her in return was satisfactory. _Mister nosy._

Mihawk turned the opposite direction to the kitchen, brow raised in thought. He had seen the boy emerge from his room as well maybe an hour ago. What were those fools up to? He pushed open the kitchen doors and trailed to his usual ruffled apron hanging on a hook. A chuckle escaped him, fastening the back ties. _This week’s letter will be excellent, Shanks._

When Perona made it to the bathroom door, she knocked first, crossing her arms. No surprises this time, but she hated waiting almost as much as cockroaches. This led her to roll her eyes and flick open the door while the _Do Not Disturb_ sign rolled its eyes back.

She narrowed through the steamy fog, and then gaped, staring at Zoro’s slumped form. 

“Seriously!”

He blinked tiredly, opening his eyes and rubbing them. “Huh?”

“You’re sleeping, we’re supposed to be training!” She snapped a finger and closed the door behind her as he sat up and yawned. 

“Huuuuh? You were taking forever.” He groaned and stretched his arms. “And I was meditating, not sleeping.”

As if either of them believed that.

She crossed her arms at his sleepy grin as she came closer and dipped her body into the steaming water, feet inches from the bottom.

“What’s with the cutesy uniform?”

Perona huffed. “It’s so we treat this as training, and not something else. Focus this time.”

Zoro raised a brow, scrolling over her figure before it disappeared from her floatie down in the bath. “If you say so.”

She secretly doubted her own words, eyes tickling from the ugly scars on his chest to the array of muscles organized like soft clouds. His hair stuck to his neck, dripping down onto his deltoids. Did he look like that months ago?

They moved closer in the water until he could see only steam around her and the delicate curve of her shoulders. There were small muscles that would have been hidden had her hair not been tied up in a bun. 

“Have you learned anything on your own?” she asked, voice echoing in the small space between them. Their eyes were level with her floaty keeping her chest above the water. 

Zoro hummed, folding his arms in thought. “It’s not as loud, listening to things in the castle. It’s like I can hear whispering sometimes-”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s good!”

“But-” He cut his eyes to her. “It’s not as hard as inside of here.”

She searched his brown eyes as he continued.

“Technically, being in here is worse…” He gazed around the room. “It’s distracting and much harder to keep it together.” He followed her growing smile with a sigh and eye roll. “Of course it’s harder, you brainiac.”

She grinned, pushing a wave of water at his chest. “Horohoro. Can you say that again more cutely?” she asked with batted eyes.

“You.” He leaned closer, making her heart beat a little louder in her ears. “Are.” With a hand, he pulled the donut under her bust closer, and then he whispered in her ear, “Ridiculous.”

Perona smacked him on the chest with a wet hand, the sound echoing as he let go of her float. “Dummy, idiot, dummy.”

“Yeah-yeah, what’s the plan for today?”

She crossed her arms and pouted, muttering out, “I want you to listen for spirit. It is harder in here, but that means it will be easier in normal conditions. You need to see what I’m seeing in a fight.”

Zoro raised a brow, smirk returning. “Oh, you want to fight me?”

“This idiot...” She sighed, hands on her float to adjust herself. “Do you remember the fight with Mihawk?”

“Like I’d forget that humiliating shit,” he switched emotions and grumbled, memory scrolling over their brief conversation amidst the arguing. “I saw double…right?”

“Good, you remember.” She was relieved. “What you saw was my prediction.”

Zoro looked incredulous. “Like the fucking future?”

Perona giggled, earning a reddened face from him. “It’s not quite observation. I can’t see what you’re going to do-“

Zoro grabbed the donut, yanking her closer.

“Hey! Stop that!” She shook to steady herself and then hit him again.

He looked disappointed. “I thought you could see the future.”

A breath escaped as she tightened her fists, struggling to stay calm. _No ghosts, no ghosts._ “You… are so lucky that I-“ She exhaled again. “I literally am trying to tell you that I cannot see what you’re going to do. I can’t see the future.”

Zoro scoffed. “Lame.”

“Just listen already!”

She grew quiet and closed her eyes, hands folded together on her float. He said nothing, staring back at her huffing figure, and then closed his eyes. In the silence, he could hear the bath again. 

“I’m going to do something to you.” Her voice was closer this time.

“About time.” He wet his lip. 

“I’m giving you a glimpse into my sight, but it might have the same effect as a holo, it could make things worse.”

“Worse how?”

She didn’t respond. He opened his eyes and she was inches from him, looking with half-closed lids, making him flinch.

“My power isn’t just negative, it disarms haki, especially if it’s weaker than mine. So I could make it harder for you to learn.”

Zoro swallowed in his saliva, nodding his head. That didn’t make a lot of sense, but… it kind of did. He’d been hit by countless ghosts since being on the island, and he’d gotten used to it, but each time he felt a little more… dispirited. Or, maybe thinking that was hindsight bias.

“I’ve only tried this once, and the person I did it for… wasn’t the same again.”

“Just do it,” he hissed, “I trust you.”

Perona looked surprised at the earnest words, and he glanced away awkwardly, rubbing a hand through his hair.

She took Zoro’s hands in hers, squeezing his fingers. _Trusting me could be a mistake, though._ With a sigh, she guided his hands to her ribs and held them firm. He took the hint, stilling his muscles as he gazed into her.

“Look into my eyes, don’t stop.”

He nodded, following the black spheres, flitting between them as the faucet dripped behind them. And flitting… back… forth… drip… forth… drip… drip… A feeling overcame him that made his stomach lurch. Everything around him faded to darkness. Then, he was looking at himself, up at himself, being held by himself. 

A light shined behind him and he looked over his shoulder, seeing an unfamiliar body. 

“Play with meee,” a boy’s voice said. He wore a pompous capelet, that much Zoro could tell, but the rest of the boy looked more like a bunch of swirls delicately painted than a real-life image. No, the entire room did. The water was in swirls. The walls. Swirls. Floor, air, all of it.

“Peronaaa, plaaaay!” chimed the boy as he flew around them in circles. So... familiar.

 _It’s a ghost._ Zoro widened. _No, a ghost can’t look so…_ like a real person. He thought they were just blobs made from her power. His eyes lowered to the muscular mass in front of him - himself - and the darkness that came from it like a black hole.

 _“Listen,”_ her past words echoed in his ears from the fight, _“Look, he’s dancing.”_

The boy danced through the air, a white glow around him. As he hummed, a soft tune escaped. Zoro knew it, he’d heard it nearly every night for dinner.

“Come back, Zoro,” Perona said in a hurry, watching his eyes widen. “Oi!”

He suddenly gasped out, choking.

Shock widened her eyes. What did she do wrong? What did she-

Then he let out a laugh. “I’m back.”

She pushed away his hands. “Asshat.”

The word hung in the air, surprise on his face.

“That… wasn’t very cute to say,” he said matter-of-factly, then smiled. “Sounds good, though. Swear more often.”

Perona sighed, regretting that he could even take her out of character. A couple of shallow breaths allowed her to calm and then ask, “Did you see anything?”

His brows shot up. “Anything!? That was fucking wild. Is that really how you see?”

“You didn’t leave the room?”

Zoro swore. “Shit, I wasn’t even thinking about that.” _I could have seen what Mihawk looked like, probably a swirly coffin._ He choked back a laugh.

She grabbed his hands. “I hexed you. If you went too far I-” 

“You hexed what!?” His face warped into horror.

“I thought you trusted me,” she said in a sing-song voice.

Silence.

He gave a shrug. “Hm. Guess it’s fine. You didn’t tell me that the piano ghost is a freaking person.”

“Rikku has claim to this castle, of course, we get along. Royalty has to stick together. But, he was just a kid when he died. Would you have wanted to know that?”

“Maybe, dunno.” Zoro furrowed his brow, burying the uncomfortable thought. “What about the other ghosts? Are you literally haunted or something?”

Perona let out a laugh, surprising him.

“What?”

“You’ve never been so curious, dummy. Let’s get out of the bath, first. This is honestly horrible for skin.” 

Zoro scoffed. “No way, I am this close to learning something useful.”

She shot him a look, and he crossed his arms as she snapped a finger and rose from the water, sitting on the edge of the bath. “And I am this close to using a hollow on you.”

“Why don’t you then?” His lips poked out. Dumb kissable lips.

“Because I can’t teach you spirit if I’m taking it from you.” She rolled her eyes, thinking over a conversation in the library with Mihawk. 

Zoro looked thoughtful.

She waved a hand. “Everything has a will, even ghosts, even you. There’s so much darkness right there.” Her finger pointed to his chest where a beat grew faster. “So how would you be able to see it?”

Zoro furrowed his brow, staring at her ankles in front of him. “Shit.”

“You’re not just strengthening your will, you’re moving it in harmony with everything else. The world isn’t negative, Zoro, people are.”

To her surprise, his eyes lit.

“You’re... not a bad teacher, I shouldn’t have said that.”

Her cheeks grew hot.

“You didn’t know how to explain it.” 

“Thank you, dummy idiot fool.”

He sighed. “You’re back.”

~*~

Dinner was as usual in the castle, a series of complicated courses by Mihawk while the appetizers tasted so-so. Tonight, he made a rice pudding with raisins and dates, topped with cinnamon. Zoro didn’t know if it was the main course or not, but he ate all of it mindlessly despite the sweetness. It’d taken months but he finally figured that Mihawk could not make a staple dish to save his life.

 _It makes no sense,_ he munched on his rice with a twisted face, _even Perona can cook normal foods._  
  
She simply chose not to, or pretended she couldn’t. A thought touched Zoro, making him lower his fork.

_It’s like he’s never had to eat struggle food-_

_Shit. Was he a prince or something? Like that ghost?_

Rikku played a song on the piano. To Zoro’s eyes, it — no, _he —_ still looked like a blob of white, but it was different. There was a soul in there somewhere that he couldn’t see clearly.

Perona raised both brows, meeting the confused glance of Mihawk as Zoro choked on the meal that he’d been shoveling into his mouth. As she requested, rice pudding was the main dish while a piece of meatloaf was served on the side. She tapped a finger, sliding a glass closer to his ugly mug.

“Boy,” Mihawk said simply once he regained his life energy. “What goes of your development?”

Zoro lowered the glass, a grave feeling over him. The question he had avoided for two days. He swallowed. “It… goes.”

Perona tightened her hand over her spoon, biting both lips to not laugh.

“Does it?” Mihawk seemed unaffected by the sarcasm and placed his fork down, finger twitching over the knife instead. “To my attention, you’ve been sulking _again.”_

Zoro felt himself grow angry, staring into those judging disgusting eyes. “I’m continuing. I’ve already been making-”

The feeling of hostility touched him for only a moment before he tore out of his seat. Something was going to hit him. Kill him, stab him, it would be lethal. He had a hand on his sword, waiting for it, and then the feeling faded. No music met them.

Perona widened. “Wh-what just happened?” 

Mihawk looked satisfied, placing down his knife. “I thought to punish you.” He had an imposing aura over him that Zoro could _hear._ It was like the bath where everything had its own sound. Piano noises had stopped, but Zoro felt an orchestra in those daffodil eyes, threatening his very life.

And then Mihawk added in a soft tone, “I changed my mind.” The hostility faded.

Zoro didn’t sit back down. “I’m finished.” His plate was empty enough, and he marched away from the table to the farthest exit, hand tight over his sword, not a single breath left behind.

_I get it. That was his spirit… I have to surpass that._

He grinned to himself once the doors closed. 

When he made it to his room, he blinked confused as it looked pink and frilly. It was her room, and it felt like he hadn’t seen it in days.

The room itself was a large rectangle with the door at the long castle-side. Across from the entrance at the other long wall were large windows lined with candles. To the left, there was her oversized fluffy bed covered in pillows and things, lined by two tall nightstands. North, there was a mirror and daybed in front of the windows, and then the project area where she had taught - or forced - him to sew in the rightmost corner. It was a tatami mat surrounded by bean bags, and then at the right wall, there were more incomplete projects than last time and a large chalkboard with scribbles.

He waded in, taking several steps carefully, as though it might be booby-trapped. Pause. A small ghost raised from the floorboards, moving at a lullaby pace, as though he weren’t even a thought.

Zoro swallowed and trailed to the bean bags, leaving his sword belt and boots to the side. The bags sighed under his weight and he closed his eyes.

~*~

Perona stared at the fool laying in her work area with amused eyes. The candles along the windows were lit, giving flickers of light to the room. She carried a pitcher of water to a table by the window, the glass clanking making his ears twitch. 

“You’re back,” he said quietly, rubbing his brow and sitting up to stretch. 

It was a wonder how he could be alone for not even an hour and fit in a nap.

“Mihawk-sama seemed impressed when you left.”

He hummed, watching her float back and forth. “Didn't look like it.”

She flicked her hand, instructing a drawer to open. A ghost delivered her pajamas as she floated up to the top of the high mattress.

He sat up fully from his reclined position and looked towards her.

“Did you need something?” she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to unfold a nightgown.

“Actually, yeah.”

That gave her pause, and then she continued to change while he looked forward at the table, rubbing his hair awkwardly to catch a breeze. Damn it, he had to cut it eventually. She was right. His skin did feel drier after staying in the water. 

“Come up, let’s talk.”

This time, Zoro paused, but his body moved before his brain could catch up and he was trailing to the foot of her bed. There was the sound of fumbling and then her head popped over the edge, hair hanging in all directions.

“Hurry up, and put that on.” She pointed to a pile of cloth on the tatami table. “This is a cute space, don’t enter it in those.”

Zoro rolled his eyes, marching back to the table to snatch a silk yukata. _Wait._ He held it up in front of him, staring at the small white stars stitched onto a breast pocket. 

“Didn't we make this?” he asked, turning it inside out and running his fingers across the seams. It had a second lining now, though the corner he had finished was still rugged. 

“Yep, I finished it,” she said, lying on her stomach and leaning on one elbow. “It's too big for me, any-how.”

 _Shit, feels nice,_ he admitted to himself, unwrapping his obi to free his shoulders from his yukata. A slight breeze made him shiver, feeling her eyes on his back even in the dim lighting. 

Once in only his pants, he slid the yukata onto his shoulders. _Too big?_ He glanced back, seeing that her face was gone. It fit perfectly to him and wrapped fully around his waist, covering his chest down to his knees. He suddenly felt glad that he had put on underwear.

Zoro took a glance at himself in the mirror. Black silk robe contrasting his collection of scars, hair grown too long for his taste. The look was definitely one that the crew would get a kick out of if they saw it. Luffy would be rolling on the floor with laughter. He smiled to himself and then headed to climb up the ladder of her bed.

“Hey.”

Perona didn't look at him at first, carefully pulling a pair of socks over one of her legs up to her calf.

“What are you doing?”

“PJs,” she said with a wince and then sighed. She wore a purple nightgown and long fluffy socks. Her hair was thrown back in a messy braid while a matching nightcap sat on her head.

Zoro couldn't help but laugh. “Is this a fucking slumber party?”

Perona gasped, eyes rolling in disbelief. Her dramatic hand fell from her bosom. “How could you be so bold to assume that I would invite you to such a cute occasion.” He crawled on his knees over the too-soft bed making his way to her with a sultry grin. 

“Hm.” She looked over the robe. “Fits good, keep it.”

“Just might.”

“Good.” 

“Good.” He crossed his arms, sitting two feet from her.

A moment must have passed, denoted by the ticks of the clock on her nightstand, and then they released a unanimous sigh. 

“I wanted to-” he said at the same time as her, “Did you want to-”

Zoro bit his tongue, making a pained face.

“What did you want to talk about?” she asked with a smile, trying not to laugh.

He watched her float into a place at her pillows and tuck her legs under the blanket.

“Well...” he started with a scratch of his head as her doll eyes searched him. “Us.”

“Oh.”

“Just... before something else happens, to make sure we're on the same page.”

Zoro's face burned as a lighthearted chuckle escaped her. 

“That's really mature of you, horohoro.” 

He exhaled, sitting crosslegged for comfort with a narrowed face. “That better not be an insult.”

“Or what?” She batted her eyes in a way that made him tighten his fist.

 _Or I'll- no... no..._ Zoro shook his head, practically sighing out the words, “Seriously, I'm fucking attracted to you.”

Perona's cheeks shot to a cherry pink, and she tugged at her collar. “Uh-” she couldn't finish her response, having clearly not expected him to be so forward. He could see that.

Zoro sighed again, letting himself fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling of her canopy so that they wouldn't keep meeting eyes. “It's confusing.”

The statement made her snap her head to him, crossing her arms, looking offended. “What's so confusing about a woman as cute as me?”

“Well...” he grumbled, rolling onto his side to face the door instead. “It's been a while since...”

Her eyes lit up. “Wait, are you a virgin?” He turned back to her with an incredulous look while she scrolled through their previous interactions. “You really don't act like a-”

“No,” he assured her with a serious face, choosing to sit up while her eyes drifted in thought. “Trust me, I've had sex.” Then he smiled on one side of his face. “Lots of it.”

Perona scoffed, throwing a pillow at him.

Zoro let it hit him, and placed it in his lap, face looking serious again. “I won't beat around it, though. I don't have a lot of experience with... women.”

She didn't mean to raise her brows in shock and instantly regretted it as his ears reddened. _So, then he does like men? Does he like..._ her mind drifted to the papers.

“Hey,” he snapped his fingers, bringing her attention back. His eyes flitted between hers. “Is that okay? I mean-”

Perona swallowed, realizing he was waiting for a response. The fools' swagger he carried resembled more nervousness than she was used to seeing on him. Anger, pain, she'd seen, even sadness, but to be _nervous_ of how she would respond... was different.

“So you like men and women?” she finally asked, instructing a ghost to open the nearest window for a breeze.

“Well, yeah... I kind of prefer men, though,” he said with an awkward smile.

Perona scoffed again, this time more dramatically, drawing a hand across her bosom as though she were clutching a pair of pearls. 

Zoro chuckled under his breath. “Again, I'm attracted to you.”

That statement made her redden, unsure of how to respond without jokes. “I- I- know, just-”

“And... you're attracted to me, right?”

She watched him put the pillow on his lap aside and move closer on his knees to the headboard of the bed. 

“Right?” he asked again, face closer.

Perona reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing along the silk until she reached the hot skin of his neck. They looked at each other as the wind blew out the nearest candle, making her swear in her head. It grew dark, the image of his eyes left in her mind. She could feel his heat close on her shoulder and then felt his warm hand on her thigh, earning a gasp as he rubbed it in place.

“Perona.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “Even an idiot like you is...” Her words felt heavier as candles were re-lit by a ghost, making the room dim again. Their faces were almost touching, and his expression gave away his intentions. “S-somewhat attractive to-”

He didn't let her finish, pressing his lips to hers, earning a surprised _hm._

Zoro felt like his heart would pound out of his chest. The drum was in his ears, racing past a feeling of anxiousness. Her hand stayed under his chin while the other moved to his cheek and her tongue traced his lips.

They kissed for a moment longer, and Zoro carefully wrapped his fingers around the side of her knee, pulling her body toward him. She chuckled, using a pat of power to position herself reclined fully as he crouched over her, one arm resting at her head.

Perona rubbed her hands along his shoulders, pushing down the yukata. Flicking a finger, the tie at his waist came undone and his body revealed itself.

“Shit,” Zoro muttered, looking down. “You could have been undressing me this whole time.”

A laugh escaped her. “I'm not some pervert, you know.”

“Hm...”

“I'm not!” she snapped, hitting his bare chest as he smiled.

“Yeah, cause a pervert definitely wouldn't enter someone else's bath _and_ watch-” he grunted, not finishing his sentence as she snatched her hand down his exposed abs, snaking it back up to his chest. “Not. fair.” 

She giggled, laying her arms over his neck, an amused look on her face. “Are we done talking?”

“Maybe.” He searched her face with his eyes. “You're definitely okay with this, right?”

She nodded. “I'm a consenting adult, you know. I'm actually older than you.”

Zoro blinked. “You are?”

 _Sigh._ “I'm not repeating that.”

“I just, I mean, you're okay with me being-”

“Into men? I don't care,” her irritated tone shut him up. “It's not like I've never found women attractive, Zoro dummy.” Though, none were as cute as her. “I'm not so immature to judge you over something like that.”

He nodded, leaning on one side to lay down next to her, one hand propped behind his head and the other tracing her stomach in thought.

“You're fine with me, as well?” she asked in a different voice, prompting a curious expression. “You know, with my condition. Can't say it's the sexiest thing about me...”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Please, there's lots of shit that’s sexy about you-” he froze, feeling ice at his neck as she blinked wide and smirked. “I mean.. I hadn't thought of it. It changes nothing.”

The words relieved her, and she scooted closer to him, reaching her arms out to wrap them around his thick waist and tuck her head under his chin, placing soft kisses there.

“Listen,” he started quietly after a sigh, “We don't have to do a lot... right now, no pressure.”

“But?” She peeked up at him, following the change in tone.

“But if you want to sit on my face, that's cool.”

This time, Perona was glad for the breeze that wafted to the bed as she stared into his neck.

He cleared his throat, scooting back to see her fully. “Perona.”

“What did you just say?”

“Sit on my face.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, “I thought I heard wrong.”

On the other side of the castle, a pen may have dropped.

Zoro huffed, rolling onto his back. “Seriously, you can sit on my face. I'm saying I'll eat you out, like right now...” He paused, “if you want, that is,” and then finished in a casual tone.

After a moment, a silent scream escaped her as she covered her mouth and sat up, staring down at him. “Zoro!”

“Yeah?”

“How do you always find a way to be dirty, seriously? You're in the wrong field, be a gardener, not a pirate.” She shook her head, palms over her cheeks.

Zoro laughed in his chest. “Because dirt is in gardens, right.”

Her face contorted to a pout as she pulled her knees together to turn toward him, tracing over his body. “W-why do you suddenly want to?”

“Why don't you?” He raised a brow. “If we're gonna be fucking shouldn't I know how you taste, at least? It'll feel good.” He smiled. “If it doesn't, let's consider this practice.”

Perona bit her lip in thought, an itch at her thighs that she knew could be satisfied if she said, “Alright.”

Zoro looked surprised, then he grinned.

“I'm laying down, though... it'll hurt to sit on you.”

“I have a strong neck.”

Perona rolled her eyes. “I mean me, ugh, you're so annoying.”

She picked up a pillow and shoved it over his face, mostly to hide the hot blush creeping up her neck. His laughs were muffled. Then she freed him, noting the more serious look on his face as he took it from her hand and tossed it to the side, guiding her wrist to his chest. 

“Come here,” he whispered, and she hated the command with fury, and moreso herself as she bent toward his shirtless body and met his lips, hot in her lower half as he smacked a kiss and pulled her on top of him.

Zoro’s hands were more gentle than she expected. In silent thoughts, Perona felt like she herself was rougher with him. For each snake around his shoulders, he left a caress up her spine. With the bite of his lips, her thighs were squeezed softly.

In a smooth motion, he laid her on the pillow and settled himself over her body, planting kisses from her cheek to the delicate skin under her neck, earning a soft moan.

Zoro felt himself grow half-hard at the quiet sighs she made as his hand reached under her gown and rubbed from the side of her thigh to her stomach.

Heart beating faster, he dragged his lips up to her ear, whispering in her ear, “Tell me.”

“Mm,” Perona moaned, taking in the heat of his mouth as he nibbled on her earlobe. “Down...”

“Down _what_ ,” he asked in a hiss, anticipation in his voice.

She drifted her half-closed eyes to his face, and swallowed, knowing well the eyes of a man that wanted to be talked to roughly. “Get down on your knees,” she whispered back, “And eat my pussy.”

Zoro bit his lip hard and groaned in his mouth. “Shit, okay.”

A laugh almost left her. _Seriously, you and that mouth._

“At least try to sound cute,” she added with a sigh.

Zoro chuckled, giving her a kiss, and then said, “Yes, Lady Perona.”

Perona covered her mouth in a laugh with two hands as he brushed a palm over her nightgown, and then lifted it up, a grin on his face as her body revealed itself. Her limbs were taut and muscular, even though she had a bit of _squish_ like most women. She wore a black panty set, which he gave an approving nod over. 

“Any day now,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Just memorizing,” he replied, eyes locking into hers and then drifting down as he tugged the nightgown over her head and tossed it to the other side of the bed in a swift motion.

Perona blinked, suddenly in only her underwear while he lay above her shirtless, planting kisses down her neck and onto her chest. _W-wait._ His lips brushed over her breasts and then he took a soft nibble over the skin there, making her shift from the tickle. _That was fast._

“Y-you can touch me, you know,” she added, face burning in a blush.

“I know,” he mumbled, taking a gentle bite over her ribcage and then kissing down to her hips. 

Zoro ran his hands along her legs above her socks, glancing up to see her expression, noting where she liked to be touched or not. She bit her lip as he stroked down her back, but shifted when he placed his hands around her knees. When he kissed her thighs, she sighed an almost-moan. A grin spread on his lips. _Cute._

“You're ready?” he asked quietly as she looked down at him, body warmed up. 

Focused eyes met her as she nodded, biting her lip, knowing she was wet. She delegated bits of power to place pillows under each of her feet. He didn't flinch, much, when the pillows floated near, and he spread her thighs and then positioned them under her ankles until she murmured an okay.

Zoro turned back to the woman spread in front of him, eyes demanding that he do what he intended. _Oh, I will._ With a hand rubbing up against her thighs, he palmed the area over her panties and then tugged them off. Her legs lifted for him, and then he threw the black lace somewhere, angling himself so that his face would be close to her glistening lips.

Perona could feel his eyes on her, and it almost felt invasive. “D-do you need a map-” She gasped as Zoro's tongue brushed along her labia in an eager motion, then taking a long taste of her inside. “S-slow down!” She grabbed a handful of his hair, making him wince as he raised his head.

“Mm.” He licked his lips. “Pretty sweet, probably from all that sugar you eat.”

“Actually, stay there... idiot.” She pushed his face back down as he smiled, a rush of embarrassment wafting over her. He re-settled himself with her thighs over his shoulders, waiting for her to relax. The second time, his first licks were hot and slow, teasing her entrance until she lamented, edging into the sheets in light moans. And then he was rougher, earning a confused moan from her as he sucked along her inner labia and licked inside of her, breath warm over her skin.

Perona finally exhaled as his tongue grew gentle, eyes drifting to the ceiling. _Zoro... is..._

The sensations that touched her made her hands clutch his hair tighter. “Oh... right there,” she moaned out, and he responded with an eager sound, grabbing her ass in his hands. His tongue circled over her swollen clit in beating motions, testing her body. She groaned as he suckled the folds tenderly.

“Z-zo-” She gasped as each contour of his face practically melted into her, rubbing hot hands down her body. “D-don't stop, please, oh-”

Zoro moaned in response to his hair pulled, continuing the motion as she writhed under him, voice growing into a low hum before he could mark the transition. He looked up at her face in a blissful expression, loosening her grip as he placed slow licks coming to a stop.

Perona exhaled, leaning her head back on the pillow, feeling kisses trail from her stomach to her breast as he untangled himself from her.

“Are you finished?” he leaned down and asked in her ear, tickling it.

“Mhm.” She nodded, relaxing her legs.

“How was it?”

Perona hummed over the bed, flicking a finger so that her panties would fly to her. “C plus.”

Zoro chuckled, voice deep as he whispered, “Good, then with my A plus, you won't know what hit you.”

She bit her lip, hitting him on the chest. “You really aren't cute at all.” 

He didn't respond, only sighed, hand venturing lower into his shorts to entertain his pulsing shaft. In the silence he let out a close-mouthed groan, biting his lip. 

“Are you?”

“Almost,” he whispered, his free hand pumping along his length. 

Perona glanced down at his hand.

“Look at me.”

She gulped and then locked eyes with him as he half-moaned in his mouth, lids flickering in pace with his strokes.

“Is that what you like?” she asked in a whisper. “Being watched?"

Zoro's cheeks flushed as she trailed his chest with a hand, brushing his nipple gently.

“You want me to see how dirty you are?” she asked in his ear.

 _Fuck,_ he mouthed and then _mm'd,_ head falling into her shoulder.

Zoro moaned again, resting his body at her side and his face in her cleavage to come down from the short high. He looked grateful when she conjured over a rag for him to wipe his hands with.

"Thanks," he mumbled, cleaning the mess at his shorts. 

"Another time," he added in a huff, "Let's do a mirror thing."

She rolled onto her side and tucked her hands under her cheek with sleepy eyes. "Do I want to ask what the mirror thing is?"

"Well, it’s like this, but in front of a mirror."

A smile formed on her face, eyes blinking tiredly. "I literally want to hit you."

Zoro grinned. "How hard?"

Heck, she giggled.

"Seriously, did we unlock something in you, today? You'd better put this much enthusiasm in your training."

Instead of a reply, he leaned forward and pecked her lips. "I will. I'm gonna go."

Perona kissed him back and then yawned. "If you didn't, I'd kick you out, anyway, loser."

"Cold." He twisted his face in thought for a moment. "I might be into that."

She yawned again instead of replying, and he sat up fully on the bed, taking the messy rag and the silk black yukata before crossing the large mattress to the ladder edge.

Zoro climbed down as one ghost tucked her in and another blew out the nearest candle. _It's like they're her family or something._ The odd thought left as quickly with a shiver.

Cool tiles met his feet and he put on his boots and grabbed his regular clothes, leaving behind the tall doors of her palace-like room. The creak of the hinges echoed in his ears as he looked for the second floor bath to opt for a fast shower before bed.

Zoro stopped in the middle of the hall, furrowing his brow. Did he always shower after a rendezvous? _Because of what he might think._ Luffy would never say it outright, but Zoro knew he never cuddled next to him if he smelled like a stranger.

 _Is that the past now?_ He swallowed, a cold feeling over him. _No, I’ll see him again._

Even feet away, Zoro could still smell her flowery scent lingering on his skin.

"I'll take one in the morning," he decided, marching in any given direction. Before the end of the night, he would make it to his room and probably smell like her until he fell asleep.

On the way there, he couldn’t stop grinning.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things!  
> 1\. I combined two chapters (previously 6&7)  
> 2\. This story will be finished in a few more chapters (I will try to make them longer!)  
> Thanks for exploring this dynamic duo with me. :)


	11. (E) The Full Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zoro finds Mihawk interested in his life. His plans with Perona are interrupted.
> 
> Explicit content, touch
> 
> 1/21 - re-edited chapter. some phrases are changed

**Chapter 11 (latest!)**

The time was mid-day close to sunset. Zoro sat in silence upon a hill, maintaining his meditation pose. He ignored a chilly breeze tickling his chest, whispering in his ears, stroking its fingers along his shoulders, saying, “Don’t you want to play?”

No, that was her.

“Perona, please shut up.”

 _Y-you would dare speak to me like that!_ She gaped, removing her hands from his shoulders to hit him instead. His position was unstirred, legs crossed and sitting up straight, wrists folded over one another in his lap. 

“This bushido stuff is _so_ boring!” She wrapped his shoulders and pulled him, and then leaned over his left shoulder, poking at his cheek and nibbling on his ear above his earrings. He didn’t move, body in its stilled form.

“It’s called meditating,” he whispered in a trying-to-stay calm voice, though his brow twitched.

Perona released his ear and sat up, yanking at his yukata hard enough that it slipped from his shoulders, making her fall back in the grass. _Hmph, fine,_ she pouted and crossed her arms. Minutes passed with her laying there, legs propped at his sides, staring at clouds, and then she gave up. She floated to the picnic blanket set up behind them to eat a macaron and cold cucumber sandwich while the sun was still in the sky.

Rikku poured her a cup of tea and then laid to rest over her thigh as she drank it. “He’s so boring, I should knock him off his high horse. What is he, king of the hill?” Her fingers stroked the ghostly white hair at her lap.

~*~

Zoro opened his eyes, sighing at the darkness that met him. “Seriously, why is my mind never somewhere stylish like a dojo.”

A pair of red eyes peered out in place of no answer.

“I’m back, hurry up and finish this,” he muttered, ignoring the leftover feeling that his body was being touched.

“You are distracted.”

 _“No,_ I’m stronger than yesterday, and tomorrow, I’ll be stronger than today. It’s that simple.” He smirked.

The red eyes cleared into view and its accompanied shadowy face drew forward, a duplicate of himself with dark cursed veins running through the sides of its face. Sandai Kitetsu’s eyes were blood red with black irises in the center. It said harshly, “You can be stronger with my aid, we will destroy all in your path.”

Zoro snorted. “Please, you’d cut down friend and foe, we’re not doing that, so shut the hell up.”

Kitetsu growled, not letting up his intense presence. “You remain far from the greatest if you refuse to spill the blood of those in your path. _Yoru_ does not hesitate.”

He raised a brow. “Who’s in charge here?”

“I agree, swordsman,” a softer voice interrupted, “That you are learning, but the battles ahead will be unlike any before.” To Zoro’s right sat a picture of himself in white and gray, a calm and beautiful simplicity. It was almost more unsettling seeing himself in peace than seeing a cursed form. Such elegance had to be the least like him. Wado Ichimonji placed its white eyes upon him, no color found inside their shape.

“That cursed blade is correct in that you may have to remove some of these worldly attachments.”

His brow twitched. “I won’t, I’ll protect all of it.”

“Even if it holds you back?” Ichimonji asked. 

“Don’t forget that if I die, it could be years until any of you are used again.” Kitetsu glared at him while Ichimonji smiled. “I’ve almost got haki down, so don’t go writing me off or I’ll leave all of you behind when I become the greatest-”

There was a presence at Zoro’s back that made him pause, something like a sleeping death. 

“Funny,” he said quietly, looking over his shoulder, “You usually have the worst temper. Cat got your tongue?”

A gust of hot smoke drew forward, making him cough and close his eyes, stirring him from his meditative state.

~*~

Zoro opened his eyes, staring at the castle in front of him. The sun had moved into an orange haze. He looked over his shoulder, blinking in disbelief at the sight of her. Perona lay in the grass, staring up at the sky, arms extended upward making shapes with ghost letters. Rikku sat next to her in his blurry form, saying inaudible words denoted by her giggles and whispers. Zoro still couldn't see him clearly. 

_Means I'm not strong enough yet._ He shook his head. _That ghost shit never gets normal._

He unfastened his sword belt and placed it aside on the hill, releasing the feelings the blades left him with. Then he crawled over her picnic spot, blocking the sun as he drew closer, his hair falling onto his shoulders. Its length almost crept onto his back considering five months - or maybe longer - without a haircut. She whispered something and the ghost disappeared, making him flinch before her attention shifted to him. 

“Dummy.”

 _Already insulting me?_ He grumbled, “You’re so rude, you.”

She humphed and pouted, rolling onto her stomach to look away to the space behind them. Trees, nothing special. “Did you finish your nap thing?” 

“It’s training.” His eyes scrolled over her defiant form as he reached for a sandwich half and plopped it into his mouth, noting that the taste wasn’t bad. For a rude princess, that is.

“Well, it’s not fair if you're using other methods, Mihawk’s going to take all of my credit,” she muttered, swinging her calves in the air and pulling a dandelion by its roots.

Mihawk had been curious about Zoro’s progress, agreeing to train him again most days a week, but he'd also been teaching lessons Zoro didn't get. His body was sore. Still, Zoro was glad to be back on a regular schedule for the past few weeks. Meditating helped him to keep focused. Other than training his spirit and eating together, he didn’t see a lot of Perona around. They hadn’t gone further since he’d been to her room. He… wanted to, but maybe she didn't after all.

The black tennis skirt at her hips didn’t cover much. If he lowered his eyes, he could see the rim of her panties from the way she was laying down. There weren’t shorts underneath, either, only long socks that stopped past her knees. She honestly had really nice thighs, one of the most attractive parts of a person to him.

Shaking the thought, he said, “It doesn’t matter, as long as I’m stronger.” He chose to take another sandwich instead of lingering, realizing his yukata was disheveled. While adjusting his collar, he met her glance with a raise of his brow. 

She looked at him from her side, one arm propped under her head. Convincing himself that her pose wasn’t on purpose took effort. _Gosh, and you barely want to do anything..._ He sighed, wiping crumbs from his lips.

Zoro spoke to fill the silence. “I’m not slacking, and it’s not his method, it’s mine. I have to keep my blades under my control-“

“Loser.”

“because I stronger I get, they can do just as much harm to me-“

“Dummy.”

“and if you’d ever wielded a sword you’d _understand!”_ he ended on a shout and smacked her behind.

Perona yelped, feeling the sting before she’d heard him move close on the blanket.

“Ow, you jerk!” she shouted, rubbing a hand against her left cheek and then shooting a hollow with a finger gun.

 _“I- I should die,”_ he stuttered, fighting the urge to end his own life even as he raised a palm. 

She _eeped,_ and he smacked her butt again, this time straddling her thighs as a second ghost yanked the will from his chest with a few giggles.

_“P-please forgive me-”_

“Then get off!” She wiggled, grasping willpower to command an explosive ghost this time.

“Enough,” he moved close and whispered in her ear, “Or I'll do worse,” earning a hot blush up to her neck. 

“D-don’t be so mean to me!” she snapped as he left a kiss under her ear. His hand placed itself over hers and they locked fingers, and the other hand warm as he trailed up the back of her thigh and squeezed, earning a gasp.

“Then don’t pick fights with me.”

Her breaths were quieter than the wind as his palm brushed to the side of one cheek, almost touching the rim of her panties.

“Do you want me to stop?” Zoro asked, watching the back of her exposed neck. The skin was freed by her hair tied in a messy pineapple bun at the top of her head.

She felt his heat at her back like a furnace despite the afternoon breeze and bits of the setting sun hitting the hill. “Y-you have permission to continue…”

Feeling her shift, he moved his weight as she rolled over onto her back, still under him but this time facing him with prideful eyes. He could definitely see her panties now and knew what was underneath. His tongue remembered what she tasted like.

He let his yukata fall from his shoulders and then lowered himself until he settled over her, stomach resting between her legs. _I know you like to look,_ he grinned.

 _He's thinking something dumb._ She narrowed, two hands at the sides of his exposed chest. “You are not cute at all.”

Slowly, his hand trailed up her thigh, making her flinch. She snapped a palm over it, and he paused, raising a brow. The touch was soft, but she guided his hand higher under her skirt until he met the fabric of her panties.

“Hey,” he asked, creeping his fingers into the rim so that he touched her skin, watching the gloss in her eyes. He didn't move his hand further. “Have you been pent up?”

Perona crossed her arms, making space between their chests. “Don't ask such frivolous things.”

“Ugh, big words, me-too-dumb.”

She blinked, and then he bumped foreheads with her softly, making a raspberry face.

“Is that what you thought I'd say?”

“Just touch me or leave, dummy.”

“Come on,” he whispered, starting to move his hand down her labia as their noses touched, “Have a little fun.”

“Princesses don't do _fun._ ” She grabbed her cheeks with his hands and pulled his face into a kiss. “You're the one who's been pent up.”

“I really can't deny that.” He bit his lip as her hands played in his hair, giving it a tug and then brushing down his neck.

Zoro sighed and smiled, rubbing his fingers at her opening as her thighs parted, settling at his waist, noting how wet she was. For a moment, he teased the skin of her lips and then pushed in his thick finger. A slight gasp escaped her as he added a second finger rather quickly.

“W-wait-“ 

“You can take it,” he said quietly, eyes looking at her seriously, “You’re so wet, can’t you hear it?” His smile reached his eyes. “I can.”

Before the sound of the wind, there was the squelching of his fingers pushing in and out, making her thighs twitch. Perona hit his chest and he curled his fingers in response, making her moan. “Y-you idiot-” 

Zoro slowed his motion and carefully slid his fingers out of her. “Can I…?” He raised a brow, hips moving slightly.

Her cheeks reddened, placing her hands at his chest for comfort. There wasn’t anyone around, she had already checked. Mihawk was on the other side of the island. I-if she wanted to... they could...

Perona blinked, and Zoro was staring at her confused. She laid on the picnic blanket while he crouched over her, one hand clasping their fingers together, rubbing his thumb over hers. The other was used to prop himself as he looked into her eyes.

“Did you hear me?”

“What?”

_Wasn't he just-_

He raised a brow at her doe-eyed expressions. “Did you just space out?” A grin started. “That was kind of cute.”

She slowly sat up, pulled halfway by their connected hand. He sat on his knees in front of her, cocking his head. 

“I was saying how about tonight?”

Perona snapped her hands over her skirt when she followed his glance. At least her panties were dry. Then she widened. “Tonight?”

“Yeah...” He rubbed his head awkwardly. “Since now's not good.” 

_Right, I did say that._ She sighed, accepting that she had to bury the ridiculous thoughts. How long was she staring at him like an idiot? 

His shoulders blocked the sunset glare as he leaned in closer, their noses almost touching. “I want you, tonight. Should I say it like that?”

The words didn't make her flinch, but she hummed, and then reached a hand out to his face. He didn’t stir until she plucked his forehead.

“Fine, greedy.” Her cheeks burned as he placed a kiss on her lips. ... _I'm the one who's greedy._

~*~

A clock ticking brought Zoro back to reality. _Damn, I should have said in an hour._ It was only six on the dark red courtyard, meaning the sun that had heated the day was gone, leaving a chilly ominous air that better suited the castle grounds. _Not in like four._

They hadn’t eaten dinner. When would they even find the time to mess around? He thought to go to bed before midnight, to recover fully, but Mihawk hadn't trained with him yet. So, would their rendezvous be before then? Unless his training went over. Plus, time for a bath after. Did he need one before? He sniffed his yukata. Not bad, but a man's "not bad" could be a woman's "gross".

 _Fuck, everything is always so complicated._ He made a defeated sound in his throat.

“Roronoa,” Mihawk’s sharp voice broke his trance and he widened, surprised at himself. “Is thinking that difficult for you?”

“Wh-wha-” he shuttered. _Shit, what part are we on?_ The chair creaked under him as he sat erect—he really had to get a new vocabulary. Heaven smite him if he started using words like frivolous, though. _Like those prissy two._

“Were you never taught to focus? I understand that you do not think scholastically.” _Ugh, more big words._ “But, are you completely lost?” asked Mihawk in a tone that insulted him so much that he wanted to jump out of the window.

Zoro’s face heated, taking a breath. “I-I learned in a dojo, we didn’t need to do all this… stuff.” 

Mihawk sighed, turning back to the chalkboard. “Well, at least you can read.”

“Huh?”

“Right?”

“I can't write that good.”

“I mean right as in _correct.”_

“Right. Yeah. Right as in cool.” 

“You’d be surprised how many people can’t read,” Mihawk added.

“I guess.” That, Zoro could confirm from his days as a bounty hunter. In the East Blue, he’d ask if people had heard of anyone on a bingo sheet and they’d ask if there was a picture instead. Hell, Luffy was his captain and could barely read himself, or maybe he hadn’t bothered to learn. “Uh, also-”

“Speak clearly.”

Zoro cleared his throat. “Can we practice?”

“This is practice,” Mihawk said in a tone neither satisfied nor displeased. He crossed his arms and leaned against the table in the corner of the library where he’d been writing figures on the board.

“With swords, I mean.” Zoro swallowed as Mihawk’s glare grew intense. “In a way that’s more useful.”

“Is this?” He motioned to the various shapes and swirls on the board. “Useless to you?”

Even in a plain shirt and slacks, Mihawk looked like he might murder someone. And worse, he made it look attractive. _He must have been a feudal lord in his past life._

“N-no, yes, kind of.” Zoro exhaled, giving up regard for his life. “I’m just saying, I've almost got armament down. This math stuff isn’t my style, I’d rather fight.”

Mihawk raised a brow. “Math?

This time, Zoro could feel a breeze of cool air at his neck and the screech of a bird outside.

“Y-yeah?”

“This is elements.”

Zoro raised his brows, surprised. 

Mihawk sighed, placing the chalk down. “I’m teaching you properties of elements.”

“Shit.”

_It all looks like fucking fractions._

“That means you have not been paying attention this entire lesson.”

Zoro stared down at his lap. _I could if it wasn’t confusing._ Granted, it was only his second or third lesson. 

“You remain distracted.” Mihawk sighed. “Even as this is important to haki.”

**_“You are distracted.”_ **

His head snapped up. “What did you say?”

“You are not paying attention to the things around you despite growing resolve.”

Bawling his fist, he struggled over the thoughts rushing at him. _Why? Why do I keep hearing that shit? I’m making progress, aren’t I!? Let’s just fight already, I can show off what I’ve learned._

When he looked up, Mihawk turned a chair the opposite way and sat down across from him at the far end of the table, an annoyed expression.

“Am I incorrect?”

Zoro exhaled and calmed himself, then spoke clearly. “Kitetsu said the same thing and won’t shut up about it.”

Mihawk lowered his brows. “Kitetsu?” His eyes darted to where the blade sheath at Zoro’s hip would be.

Taking some queue, Zoro unfastened his belt and placed the red sheathed sword over the table. Mihawk analyzed it with narrowed eyes.

A moment passed, which felt unusual. He realized an explanation was due and said, “When we talked, kitetsu said I was distracted.”

“Since when has this blade... _talked_ to you?”

Zoro scrunched his face in thought back. “I think it’s been less than a year... it never shuts up.” He tapped a hand over the black scabbard of shusui, feeling cynical energy tap back against him. “Shusui didn’t until recently, though. Kind of an ass.”

Mihawk crossed the room and pulled a thin book off a shelf, the history section. “Which kitetsu is this?” he asked, sitting back down and flipping through pages. “Ah, sandai, and what of the white blade? Can you communicate with it as well?”

“Yes…” he said in a quieter tone. “I’ve had Ichimonji for years.” _But we never talked much._ He couldn’t bring himself to before meeting Luffy and that smile that said everything would be okay, that made it okay to face his past.

Mihawk followed his dark expression but didn’t badger further. He made a thinking sound and closed the book. “Perhaps your adolescent training was not fruitless. Which island are you from? East Blue, yes?”

Zoro tried not to look surprised that Mihawk would remember that passing comment about his home sea. He composed himself and said, “My island didn't really have a name.” In fact, he probably wouldn’t be able to find his way back to it. “My dojo, Isshin, was in Shimotsuki village, though.”

Mihawk raised a brow. “Shimotsuki?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Shimotsuki,” Mihawk said sharply, “is a well-renowned samurai family from Wanokuni, started by a Ryuma Shimotsuki centuries ago.”

Zoro stared at shusui. “I fought some Ryuma-guy a while back. He was a zombie, though.”

Mihawk didn’t flinch, even though Zoro shivered trying not to recall the creepy island where he’d met Perona and many other bizarre characters. “I am aware of that battle.” Those words didn't make him happy, meaning Mihawk and Perona had probably talked about him. “It's possible his descendants have trained you.”

Zoro shook his head. “Does it matter? I would have gotten stronger, either way.” 

Mihawk crossed his arms, folding one leg over the other. It was a wonder how he fit those long legs under the table. “Hm, this has taken a segue.”

The characters on the chalkboard agreed. Zoro glanced over them, and then out of the window at the darkness of the evening.

“Still, it is a dangerous thing to have cursed blades willingly speak with you.”

“Can’t you talk to that?” Zoro looked at Yoru, and swore it glared back.

“Of course.” Mihawk rolled his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I seek its council. It is a tool.”

Zoro found that hard to believe. The murderous intent of master and sword synced nearly perfectly from the perspective of his many scars and bruises. He brushed his thumb against the hilt of Ichimonji, knowing it wouldn’t cut him like the other two might. For years, that fact made him uncomfortable.

“It’s just weird seeing them,” he whispered.

“Who?”

He looked up. “When I see the blades.”

Mihawk uncrossed his legs and leaned forward with an incredulous look. “Start from the beginning. Explain to me everything, and leave no details, or else.”

Zoro shifted uncomfortably. _Geesh, I would have._ He began with the current day, careful to skip over the bits where he’d flirted with Perona, and her childish antics. The swords in their forms during his meditation came to mind, and he described each one as best as he could. Kitetsu with its dark red eyes, Ichimonji in its white. The dark place in his mind where they met. He left out Shusui, admitting that he didn’t know what it really looked like, as it lingered in the shadows. He didn’t want to, but he added their comments on his progress and how he was _distracted_ and had too many worldly attachments.

Mihawk sat in silence, rubbing a finger against his chin in thought. The other hand lifted a teacup to his lips and he drank a room-temperature tea brewed in wine-berries. The book, Supreme Blades and their Origins, sat on the table. _Hm... the fact that he can visualize those entities, even in a flawed manner. His haki has been improving as well._

Finally, he said, “Boy.”

Zoro sat up.

 _Is it a coincidence?_ A village in the East Blue with samurai teachings. Mihawk had trained in dojos, but not in the art of katana. Though that type of blade was used by many from pirates to marine captains, wano had specific customs that couldn’t be replicated. Furthermore, the blades forged on that island had taken to a weakling like him. _Or, do they respond to blood similar to their creators?_

“Do you know of your bloodline?”

The question took Zoro aback, but he shook his head. “No.”

Mihawk inhaled.

“I don’t have parents.”

Then he exhaled through his nose. That wasn’t uncommon. _Incompetent adults leaving spawns of hell anywhere._

Zoro felt an insult brewing behind those golden eyes.

“Very well, this discussion has stretched beyond its purpose. For once, be grateful that I will heed your request. Prepare for battle after dinner.”

Zoro grinned. “Finally.”

Mihawk glared at him.

“I mean, yes, master.” He watched Mihawk roll his eyes and then rise from his seat, leaving the empty cup of tea. 

Mihawk crossed the room and Yoru was placed over his shoulder before he glanced at Zoro’s foolish expression. Then he left in silence, wondering to himself what he might cook for dinner that would be quick and easy. _Is this what you meant, dear?_ He wondered to himself down the short hall of the second floor. _That notion of believing in the future._

~*~

Zoro jumped up from his seat once the library’s double doors shut and the sound of footsteps left. It was closer to seven now by the large grandfather clock. A small ghost floated from the floorboard, picking up the tea kettle on the table while another carried the single cup on its head.

 _“Perona_ ,” he hissed before it left.

The ghost didn’t flinch like a human might, but the blob of white turned its head to him so slowly that he crossed his arms in defense. 

“Tell Perona to come here.” 

It stuck its tongue out and floated out of the room.

“Hey! I know you heard me!”

The two ghosts giggled and left, leaving him to roll his eyes, pacing around the room to bring circulation back to his legs. Sleeping was one thing, but sitting still for an hour didn’t feel natural to him. He did a few knee raises and swung his arms in sword flow.

“This is a library, you know,” Perona said in a confused tone, floating into the open doorway.

Zoro sighed, walking to open the window before turning back to face her, an eyebrow raised in the most annoyed look he could muster. “Oh? How would I notice with all the books around?”

She rolled her eyes, carrying a short stack to a table. Her outfit was different than earlier. She wore what he assumed was a pink leotard and white leggings. On top, loose fit balloon shorts. Her feet were wrapped in thick bandages. “I’m saying don’t train around precious knowledge, you’ll raise the humidity in here. Even you can get one percent smarter by picking up a book.”

He disregarded her comment with a scoff as she floated to the chalkboard where Mihawk’s lecture had previously fallen on deaf ears.

“Hmm.” She placed a hand on her hip and traced the drawings with her eyes as he took slow steps toward her from the window. “This actually might help an idiot like you, but my training is better.”

“You know, everything isn't about you.”

Her head whipped to him with a smirk and she placed a hand on her hip. “It isn't? Then maybe I should cancel our meeting.”

Zoro grinned, moving close enough that he could smell the flowery scent of her, and the sweat at the back of her neck, fresh from exercising he assumed. 

“Go ahead,” he said, holding his left hand out to her in a cup motion. “Cancel it, then.”

She rolled her eyes and accepted, pulled into his tight embrace until she firmly placed her hand at his chest, elbow separating his arm from closing.

“I told you this hold is a defense, too.”

“My bad, thought I’d steal a kiss.” He took a step forward and she instinctively stepped back, narrowing her eyes as he purred, “Princess.”

Perona pushed her body against his and he started a three-point turn, pulling her with him.

“I _am_ a princess, and let's not do tonight.”

“Well, I’ll be busy anyway.” 

She stopped, interrupting their sync. “Got a hotter date?”

“I mean… it’s training with that gloomy dude, so, yeah.” He started to chuckle, but she didn’t.

With a huff, she broke from her hold. “Great, so then when you learn something, thank him. I will too for taking my-“

“Your?” Zoro slithered his arms around her waist, their chests pressing together in a grin. They could almost kiss, and he moved in for one.

“Ugh.” She shoved his chest. “Knock it off.”

He broke away immediately but looked at her surprised as she crossed her arms, facing the window. _What the hell?_ The mood felt odd, that much he could tell. It was different than earlier. Was she actually looking forward to it?

“What’s the matter, if it’s that deep, let’s move it to the morning.” He gave her an awkward. “You know, a secret is that guys last longer then.” 

“No,” she muttered, shrinking back. “I need some space.”

There was a pause. “Did I make you uncomfortable? We can-”

“I don’t feel up to it, not right now.”

He stopped his thoughts, sighing. “Then let’s not do anything.”

She looked surprised, then looked at the ground, nails pressing into her forearms. There was a bead of sweat on her forehead. “Okay.”

“That’s that, then.” He turned on his foot and walked to the table and chairs to pick up his sword belt. Her eyes lingered at his back as he left out the doors without saying a word. 

_I'll just back off._ Zoro sighed in the hallway. Something was different and she obviously wasn't going to explain. _Maybe she ate something bad. I can’t keep up._

At the same moment, Perona sighed in the library, floating to a corner closed off by short bookshelves where she could sit on a bean bag and lean back against the wall, hugging her body tightly. A pair of ghosts brought her a blanket and a cup of tea, which she thanked them for, wrapping herself tightly as she opened a book.

~*~

Zoro held the white handle of Wado Ichimonji in his hands. It was the least troublesome of his blades, but Mihawk reminded him that _a blade is a blade._ Regardless of speaking with them, their intentions were to cut and slice and kill. Nothing more or less.

“Now,” Mihawk’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “Present the fruits of your training.”

Shaking off his master's annoying way of speaking, Zoro stood ready, rusty in his stance of one-sword style. He almost missed the feeling of a handle between his teeth.

_Is she alright?_

A flash flew through the air and he instinctively dodged it with muscle memory.

“I’m running out of patience.”

Mihawk watched from his position across the dark courtyard in front of the castle, lit only by oil lamps, and fireflies. _Come on, boy, prove yourself._ He gritted his teeth and then smirked somewhat, feeling the presence of spirit touch his own. It felt no more than a feisty cub struggling to prove itself.

“Focus inward,” Mihawk instructed.

Zoro’s arms shook, feeling sweat start at his brow, and then he stopped listening to the sounds around him. Instead, he listened for his place among them, and the sound of his resolve. Mihawk hummed, noting the haki leaving the air, and then he nodded his head in approval as the sword Zoro held darkened a third up its length.

“Extend your will.”

He tried his hardest, breath growing unsteady as the strain on his body fought against him.

“Control it.”

_Damn it, I can do this._

“Roronoa.”

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the blade. It was black. Not as dark as Mihawk’s, but the armament shone in a grayer shade. He started to grin.

“Now hold it.”

 _The hard part._ He clenched his teeth and forced his body to work at two functions, sustaining the haki and a fight. His heart was beating fast from the excitement.

“Defend yourself.” There was little point in announcing himself as Mihawk charged forward, swinging Yoru with enough force to knock Zoro back. 

_I-I won’t give up!_ He burrowed his heels into the gravel, parrying the blow so that he could swing Ichimonji around his shoulder and reach Mihawk’s blind spot. After hundreds of battles, of course, he'd figured out the weakness of lugging a huge claymore like that around. _His defense is worse up close!_

Zoro moved in, swinging to slice his master across the chest, and for a moment, it seemed he would succeed. Mihawk smiled in a way that made Zoro jump back, rethinking his attack.

“Is that all?” Mihawk asked, placing Yoru in the dirt upright and bearing his smallest sword. 

With a growl in his throat, Zoro sped toward Mihawk and zig-zagged his movement. He traded blows with Mihawk’s dagger for minutes before taking a chance at a jump slash. Mihawk leaned his body back and then smashed a fist hard into Zoro’s chest, making him fly backward and cough back before regaining himself in a landing. _Shit,_ his vision shook. 

“In the New World, always expect a dirty fight, even with haki.” Mihawk pulled out a pocket watch on a chain. “That was five minutes longer than the last battle.”

Zoro looked at his blade, seeing its familiar dual-tone along its length, the armament gone. “I couldn’t hold it, then…” he grumbled, feeling his body ache from pushing it.

“Haki is not infinite,” Mihawk said in a tone that almost sounded like encouragement. “Even the body is finite.”

That didn’t make Zoro feel better, but he admitted to himself that he was improving. Even turning his blade to armament seemed impossible weeks before.

“You have been listening, and growing.”

Zoro nodded, rubbing a hand over his hot neck. _I’m not worthy of praise until I master it._

Mihawk walked to the grass and pulled Yoru from the dirt, sighing over it apologetically.

Zoro retrieved his sword belt and watched his master’s back. Finally, he had the courage to ask, “Why wasn’t Perona at dinner?” 

Strapping his sword to his back, Mihawk raised a brow. “She had her meal in her room.”

Zoro narrowed. _That doesn’t tell me shit._

“I mean… _why?”_

Mihawk sighed. “Must you find yourself a part of every childish endeavor? She is under the weather.”

He blinked.

“Unwell.”

Zoro widened. “Like, sick?” He searched his memory. “She didn’t seem so earlier.”

The, “Oh?” that met him made him curse under his breath. He had left her out in his recollections on purpose.

“At least, when I passed by her… for a minute.” Zoro decided to throw a bone. “She seemed upset about you taking up my training time, something about your methods being different.”

A hum filled the air as Mihawk rubbed his chin, thinking over the information. “That much I am aware of.” He smiled, which confused Zoro further. “If she wishes to surpass me as a master then she must work for it rather than complain.”

 _She's trying to become a master?_ Zoro felt at a further loss, realizing he didn’t even notice that fact. _I’m trying to ask what’s wrong, damn it._ When she snapped at him, it didn’t feel like she was angry. It felt more like a puppy barking to keep you away because it’s in pain. _She’ll be pissed if I call her a puppy, though._

“Train your haki,” Mihawk’s voice faded as he took steps away. “There isn’t much you can do to assist her.”

He didn’t elaborate as he exited through the large castle doors, leaving Zoro to stand in the moonlight, sighing to the sky.

 _Oh, a full moon._ Zoro hummed. _Maybe she's a werewolf._ Then he chuckled.

~*~

Perona lay over the pile of bean bags in her room, curled into a ball as the next wave of aches hit her. Rikku floated over, a comforting frown on his face. There was a knock at the door and she waved a hand, delegating enough power to crack it. By the pompous steps that entered and the way Rikku sank into the floor, it was the lord of the castle.

“Mihawk-sama,” she mumbled.

“Rise up.” His presence drew closer. 

She shook her head. “Hurts. Tired. Need chocolate.”

He sighed and placed a tray on the tatami table, crouching down awkwardly with his long legs to pull the blanket from her shoulder.

“I’ve brought medicine, not ridiculous sweets. You shouldn’t be near the windows, though.” He tilted his head in question. “Right?”

Perona sat up slowly, her body feeling twice as heavy. Her legs ached and it was clear that she was out of commission with no ghosts performing nightly tasks like cleaning up after dinner. She sighed, snapping her fingers so that a ghost could tug at the curtain. It was thick, but bits of light would be able to slip through. “It's not like I can hide from the moon.”

“Full moon,” he said thoughtfully, “To have nature amplify pain. It’s a shame that the effects linger after a curse is purified.”

“At least it's not every day.”

He hummed. “Still, there isn't much I can do.”

Perona nodded, too tired to fight back as her mind lingered over the library. _He must have been surprised when I snapped at him._ Even though it wasn't his fault that her body decided to perform routine functions. “I'm used to it, but it's especially hard… with both... issues at the same time,” she said in a whisper, somewhat embarrassed over the phrase.

“I’d only imagine,” he said quietly, placing a hand over her stomach, which made her shift awkwardly. He then turned to her wrapped feet. She wore a long-sleeved nightgown and purple shorts, watching while he pulled on a pair of gloves.

“First, this is a sedative.” He handed her a cup of water with fizzy bubbles rising to the top. “It isn’t chocolate.”

It smelled like berries. _Did he add juice to it?_ She accepted the cup with shaky hands, and drank down the bittersweet liquid, he added, “It should be nontoxic.”

Perona gaped, and then whined, “Mihawk-sama, don’t use me as a test bunny!”

He chose not to hear her words and took the cup back before he ran a finger over the thick bandages and slowly unwrapped them, revealing her feet and calves. Purple and blue bruises covered much of her skin, which he applied an ointment to, earning winces. 

“Honestly.” He shook his head. “You’re foolish to have been up and about like this.”

“It's not like I planned to get stupid cramps.” Perona pouted. _Maybe I wanted to be up and about, Mr. Meanie._ The day wasn’t complete ka-poo-ey, she’d had lunch on the hill and the sun stayed up into the evening, protecting her with its warmth. Forgetting to track the sky was a second oversight. _It’s my own fault for not cutely calculating._ _He’s too distracting._

“I thought the full moon would be in a few days.” She sighed dramatically.

Mihawk ignored the sound and wrapped her legs again in bandages as she snapped for a ghost to bring her fluffy socks and two throw blankets from her bed. She winced, feeling the power tug at her body.

“Don’t strain yourself,” he said with a roll of his eyes, standing up and snatching the blanket from the air before the ghost could lower it. Then he slowly tugged the socks over her feet.

Perona stared at her large bed across the room, and then at the daybed by the window, choosing the shorter of distances. She raised a hand to lift herself and then stopped as Mihawk placed his hands at her back and under her knees, carrying her to the small bed. Up close, he smelled like wine and bergamot.

“Th-thank you,” she muttered awkwardly as he tossed the remaining blankets over her and then stood satisfied with the work. To her, it was sloppy, and the edges weren’t tucked in fully as she liked.

“This will not become a habit,” he added with a cross of his arms, leaning into a hip. 

“Sorry…”

“However, I would prefer you not die on my domain. That would be troublesome. Thus, if you need further assistance, do ask.”

Perona nodded, hugging her small kumachi bear. “Yes, Mihawk-sama.” 

He didn’t meet her expression as he left to the door with a wave of his hand, leaving behind the tray with medicine. She smiled and closed her eyes, feeling the sedative take effect and grateful for the pain fading and the warmth of the blankets, even if it wasn’t her preferred place to sleep.

~*~

When she opened her eyes, the room was mostly dark without the curtains open. It had to be day time, and her body hurt a lot less. Gosh, but her neck was aching from being curled up. A rustling in the room made her flinch, and she swallowed, rolling onto her back.

“Y-you! What are you-”

Zoro raised a finger to his lips and shushed her. He wore black harem pants and a sleeveless shirt. There were sloppy bandages on one of his biceps.

She instantly felt her face heat, sinking back under the blankets. “Did you want something?” He drew closer from his steps and kneeled by the edge of the bed, a possible feat with its normal height. “I told you, let’s not meet.”

An annoyed look plastered itself on his face as she peeked out of the blanket again. “Relax, I'm not here for... that,” he said with a huff.

“Then why are you-“

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Perona, I’m not an idiot.”

Her eyes narrowed and her nose scrunched, preparing an insult.

“Do not sass me.”

She pouted.

 _God, now I sound like that vampire guy..._ He took a deep breath, cheeks tinting. “Look, if you’re on your... woman thing, you should have just said so. You didn’t have to act mean about it.” He rolled his eyes as her face turned red from the forward words. In a mumble, “I swear, you love suffering in silence, it's kind of annoying.”

 _H-how did he-_ Surprise shifted to anger. “D-don’t think you can speak to me like that!” 

Zoro sighed, folding his arms over the bed and laying his head over one forearm to look at her directly. “I told you, I’m not just going to sit quietly if you’re in pain. I have female crewmates, you know, I can sense these things…” The last part of that was a lie. 

Perona exhaled and sat up slightly, able to see the room fully. “You mean, you came in my room and saw those?” she asked, pointing over his shoulder to the box of tampons on the tatami table that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

“Uh, yeah.” He chuckled awkwardly.

A sigh escaped her, which her back hated her for, making her grit her teeth.

“Are you good?” He sat up, eyes scrolling over her. “You don’t need anything?”

She couldn’t really answer. Sleep, that was what her body wanted her to do. “It’s cold,” she mumbled, feeling a draft at her back.

“You should open the curtains for the sun. Do you want a fire started up?” he asked.

Perona looked into his eyes as they waited for a response. She reached a hand and touched his cheek, warm, the skin always softer than it looked. _You really shouldn’t concern yourself._ But, if he didn’t, he’d keep making that ugly concerned face.

“Alright, set a fire.”

Zoro nodded, somewhat relieved as she sat up and raised a hand to lift her body from the bed, shivering at the breeze that met her. He watched her float out of the door and then exhaled once she’d left.

 _Damn, thought she’d attack me._ Like the last time he’d offered to help her with anything. After his morning run, he’d found the door that looked like it was her room and entered. Seeing her on the daybed was odd to him, but the way she was curled up with those woman-ish things on her table, that made him fill in the dots.

He crossed the room to the fireplace and collected wood from the nearby box, using a lighter from his pocket and tinder paper to start a low flame.

Perona brushed her teeth and freshened up, deciding to leave her hair in its messy bun for once. After she left the bathroom across from her room, she pushed open the door and found Zoro sitting at the tatami table, yawning. 

_Idiot, you can sleep even when you offer to help me?_ The room felt slightly warmer, denoted by the cracking flames. _...not that I want your help._ She pouted.

“I don’t need much,” she said quietly, floating to sit down over the bean bags next to him, calling for the blanket to wrap her shoulders as she picked up the second dose of medicine that Mihawk left.

Zoro narrowed his eyes over it, remembering how that same man said nothing could be done. _Secretly nice jerk._

There was a second tray with tea that she tilted her head to. It was new, fresh.

“Is this for me?”

“Yeah.”

"This is from scratch." She widened. “You make tea?”

Zoro rolled his eyes. “Do you doubt me that much?” Her lips curled. “Actually, don’t answer that, it should be fine to drink.”

He wiped his sweaty palm on his pants and then leaned over to pour from the kettle into one red cup as she watched with curious eyes. There was a blue cup already steaming in front of her. “Try that one,” he motioned.

Perona hummed, inspecting the blue teacup with her eyes, and then she reached a hand out to pick it up as he shifted closer, adjusting the blanket on her shoulders.

“Mm. It’s good.” The words seemed to make him relax, and she leaned against his shoulder, accepting body heat. “Did Mihawk teach you this?”

Zoro looked offended when she tilted her head up, eyes doll-like. “No, I learned years ago. My dojo master made a big deal of it.”

“Dojo?”

“Where I was raised.”

She paused. “You’re an actual samurai?”

Surprising her, he groaned. “Not you, too, it's just upbringing.” 

She chuckled into the cup, drinking down the rest and then placing it into the tray. The warmth of the liquid felt better on her stomach than the emptiness left from picking at last night's dinner. Hiding her condition from Mihawk proved fruitless. It almost was strange how he immediately noticed her pain. He had been the only one she’d given details of her curse to. For a cute man, she hadn't realized how much she talked to him.

Zoro moved his arm around her, bringing her thoughts back. He rubbed her shoulder with his hand while she leaned into his chest and closed her eyes. He'd seen the twitches that said her neck was stiff. _Isn't this pain excessive, though_ _…_ he looked at her face as she reclined into him fully, a slight moan in her mouth while he massaged his hand at the top of her spine. Somehow, he could feel her unsteadiness.

“I don't know how to ask.”

“It's not easy to explain,” she said with a sigh. 

"Does Mihawk know?"

She nodded.

"Then..."

"Zoro, can we talk about something else?"

He stared at the table, accepting the answer with a bitter feeling. _You sure talk to that cold guy, though..._

“You mentioned your female crewmates?”

“Ah-“ he thought as her eyes opened and looked up. “Well, yeah, they're women, too.”

“Really now?” She giggled and he flushed.

 _Stupid me._ Then he said, “With Nami, it isn’t hard to guess because she’ll outright say she's being attacked by mother nature, and that we’d better leave her alone or die. She goes murder-frenzy every other day, though, so..." She hummed, unconvinced. "No, seriously." He looked at her forehead. "Once I dropped a gold coin over the deck, and she pulled a gun on me.”

Perona stirred in his arms, and he realized she was laughing. 

Zoro rolled his eyes but smiled, looking across the room. “With Robin, I can't really tell. I didn't even know she had those issues until she asked for some special tea from the shitty cook, but I'm pretty sure she does witchcraft, so that could have been poison. Another time, she had this warm compress thing-” He met her astonished look, pausing his massage. “What?”

“What about me?”

“Well...” he mumbled, taking special care not to use the puppy reference. “Your voice.”

Perona looked surprised. 

“There’s usually something different in your voice when you're hurt... I guess. It's not like normal.” 

She blinked back. _Is your hearing that good?_

“Uh... is that weird?” He rubbed a hand against his hair.

She shook her head. “No, I just didn’t know you paid attention.”

Silence met her, and he looked away, ears growing hot. “It’s whatever, it’s not like you don’t notice if I’m hurt.”

She smiled, pressing a cheek into his chest, a hand resting on his stomach. “That’s because you like to get beaten and bloody, it's impossible to miss.”

“Get better fast, then, so you can patch me up,” he muttered, nuzzling his chin into her hair.

Her hand traced the lines of his abs through his shirt, feeling drowsiness pull at her again as she leaned into him fully. He tucked the blanket up to her neck, leaving no air pockets, the way that she liked.

~*~

The full moon passed, and the castle returned to its usual mood. Ghosts bustled around, and doors opened and closed of their own volition. Rikku played at the piano in the dining room while Zoro slumped over the table, half-alive after being fucked up - some would call it _trained_ \- by Mihawk, even with a handicap.

The dish in front of him was rice and peas and a piece of mystery meatloaf that smelled like barbeque. 

Perona sat at her seat, staring at her sweetened rice with a piece of dark chocolate on the side, but she felt the glances on her. When she looked up, Zoro snapped his head down to his plate and Mihawk sipped his wine in a conspicuous manner. _Sigh..._

“I feel fine now, Rikku, thanks for asking,” she said to the ghost across the room, who looked at her confused amidst playing the piano.

The words worked, seeing the two at the table relax a little. Zoro finally met her with his eyes, rubbing his head as he smiled.

 _Seriously, I’m not some helpless fawn._ She rolled her eyes and drank a sip of her cup, a juice that she could weakly taste medicine in. She darted her eyes to Mihawk, pouting. _No wine?_ He started on his meat with a knife, side-eyeing her. _Ugh, fine._ With a huff, she snatched the cup and downed the liquid. 

Mihawk met her fully now, taking research notes in his mind. 

“Girl.”

She raised her brows.

“And boy.”

Zoro looked surprised. 

Mihawk continued when he had their attention, releasing his knife. “I will be going on a trip-“

“No way!” Zoro and Perona snapped at the same time, giving Mihawk pause before his angry haki filled the space, forcing them to sit back down. 

_“Excuse_ me?”

No words met him, but their resentment filled the air.

 _He’s just trying to get out of training me…_ Zoro crossed his arms.

 _There’s no way I’m being left alone with him!_ Perona whined in her mouth.

Mihawk rolled his eyes and added, “I am going to gather information, and you both will accompany me.”

“Yay!” Perona squealed first. “Where to? A cute island? Cupcake island?” She beamed, wiggling in her seat. “Scary ghost island?”

 _None of those sound good._ Zoro shook his head in disbelief, putting his fork down.

“It is an island called Dark Town.”

The piano slowed to a quieter tune as Mihawk waited for a response. 

_Dark Town?_ That sounded ridiculous to Zoro. He looked up at Perona and saw a cold expression on her face against the candelabra’s flickers, making him raise a brow.

“When do we leave?” he asked.

“Tomorrow,” Mihawk said, lifting his utensils to cut into his meal and fork a piece into his mouth. 

Zoro swallowed.

“More importantly, you'll need a disguise.”

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna turn up the heat next chapter. :> I think it will be one of my favorites.
> 
> Also, I combined 2 chapters again! Thus, why we are at 11 and not 12.


End file.
